From the outside, the apartment block gave an impression of grandeur, the stone archway giving an undeserving sense of class. Once Sam had passed through the door, the ruse was revealed. As the auto locking door closed behind him, Sam was taken aback by the cheap, narrow corridor that presented itself. The wallpaper that was inexpensively slapped on the walls was peeling in certain areas, with a mucky corkboard affixed to one of the walls above a wobbly table. Piles of unopened letters were strewn across the furniture and Sam lifted them, gently thumbing through them.

Stone.

Apartment seventeen.

He was certainly in the right place.

And judging by the eviction notice stamp on the letter he held, he was piecing together that things still hadn’t improved for Alex.

A resident turned the corner and stormed towards the front door, brushing past Sam and offering nothing more than a rude grunt. From the discussions Sam and Alex had shared during his recovery in Naples, he knew the situation. Alex’s mother was a drug addict. With no father in the picture, Alex had taken on the responsibility of her two younger siblings, their freedom from the clutches of the child protection agency the carrot that was used to blackmail her in the first place. Alex wasn’t squeaky clean herself, but the illegal street races she participated in kept the rent paid, her brother and sister in clothes, and food in the fridge.

She bent the rules to give them a better future.

To do the right thing.

Sam could relate.

Adjusting his backpack, Sam headed up the stairs to the fourth floor, a musky smell lingering in the stairwell. The Bronx wasn’t the most affluent area of the state of New York, and Sam was certain a cleaner wasn’t high on the landlord’s list of priorities. As he arrived on the fourth floor, Sam followed the door numbers until he reached number seventeen. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, he realised he hadn’t even rehearsed what he would say to Alex.

She had every right to slam the door in his face.

Behind him, he heard the opposite apartment door open, and as he turned, it slammed shut.

A nosy neighbour.

Sam took a breath and wrapped his knuckles on the door.

Nothing.

‘Alex?’ Sam called out, rattling the door again with his knuckles. ‘Alex?’

Again, nothing. Sam took a step back and then carefully reached out for the door handle. He turned it and the door clicked open, creaking gently as he pushed it. The putrid smell of waste seeped through the gap and Sam scowled as he eased his way into the miniscule hallway.

‘Hello?’ he called out again, trying his best to alert anyone to his presence. ‘Alex?’