When I stood up, I understood what he meant. My stomach lifted into my throat and the clouds started spinning around my head. I put my hands out to steady myself, but that made it worse. He came over and took my arm and led me across the roof. I wanted to say something to turn him back into the Daryl whose breath I had felt against my neck, but every time I tried to speak, the words got jumbled up in my mouth. When we got to the door, he pulled a small screwdriver out of his pocket. He kneeled over the doorknob and eventually pushed it open. I followed him down four flights of stairs with a tight hold on the back of his jacket.

When we got to my house, he opened the door and pushed me inside. Through the window I watched him walk the path to his unit. When I was sure I was alone, I raced up the stairs to the bathroom. I got down on my hands and knees and heaved into the toilet. I wretched for a long time, holding on to the rim of the seat and watching as my insides emptied themselves into the bowl. I thought about leprechauns and cough syrup and lemon meringue pie and made promises to myself I knew that I wouldn’t keep.

Afterward, I cleaned my face and got into bed. My mother worked late that night, and when she came home, I told her I had the stomach flu. I don’t think she believed me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything.

Except Daryl.

When I wasn’t thinking about Daryl, I was thinking about how much I missed my sister and my grandmother and that it had been a very long time since I could remember feeling anything else but sad. One night, as I tried hard to fall asleep, I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. And that’s when I heard it.

Footsteps.

Someone was walking down the stairs. I pulled the covers closer around my ears and looked over at the clock radio on my nightstand. 12:23. I rolled back over, hoping maybe it was all in my imagination, but then I heard it again. The only thing remotely weapon-like I could find in my room was a shoe, so I picked it up and walked along the outer edges of the carpet, trying to make as little noise as possible.