No reaction.
So I sit back down.
At some point, exhaustion overcomes me, and I rest my head on my drawn-up legs.
When I wake, I sit there in total silence.
I glance at my watch. It's 4:30 in the morning. I get up and put my ear to the door.
I hear her in the apartment.
There is walking, doors open and close. Some scratching.
“Amelie, open the damn door, or I’ll break it,” I shout.
Everything goes silent.
And then she opens the door.
Light falls onto me, and I squint my eyes until I get used to it, but what I see is not good.
Her pupils are dilated, and a scent of alcohol washes towards me.
“Go away,” she says, her tone dark and dangerous.
“I won’t leave you alone,” I say.
“I told you to leave,” she says, and builds herself up, the door opening fully.
It’s when I see the gun in her hand. My first instinct is to flee, but then she might be more of a risk to herself than me.
“Amelie,” I say. “Please, let us talk. I want to be there for you.”
“Talk,” she says, laughing manically. “Talk about what? Talk about the fact that you are here, and she is not? Talk about my feelings? My mess? My fucked up?”
“You’re angry,” I say, “That’s good. Anger is good.”
“Angry! I am not angry.” A displaced chuckle follows.
“Why don’t you give me the gun, and we sit down?—“
“I don’t want you here!” she screams. “I don’t want to see your face!”
I take a step back because she is gesturing aggressively with the gun in her hand.
“I’m not leaving you,” I say. “I love you. And I am not leaving you.”
She closes the distance between us, grabs my face with both her hands, and pushes me backward into the wall.
“I don’t want you here,” she says in a threatening whisper, her face so close our noses touch. “I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to love you. All I do is hate you. I hate you, because you are here and she is not. Leave now, or I am going to destroy you.”
She said I don’t want to love you.
“You are angry because you feel too much. I can help you through that.”
She scoffs, takes a step back, and something in her switches. She stands there, glaring at me, shaking her head.
“I told you to leave,” she says.
