She was the survivor. They fell asleep together to find an escape route. She woke up. He didn’t. Her screams made the whole building tremble.
And perhaps we should’ve known right then – should’ve guessed. But we were young. We were thoughtless. Or maybe we didn’t care. Youth has its own reasons for inaction.
We watched in silence as she shuffled through the kitchen in her bare feet and dirty white robe. An apparition looking far away to some distant place; never looking us in the eye.
No one wanted to open her bedroom door the next morning. We already knew.