I’m familiar with the properties of Rohypnol, the brand name for the drug flunitrazepam. It’s used to treat severe insomnia, but since it’s habit-forming and has a long half-life, it is prescribed for only short periods. It’s not a drug to be taken lightly or for prolonged periods. I know that some people take it with booze or even morphine to get high. I’ve never done it, but I’ve heard that the effects can be devastating: loss of control, erratic behavior, amnesia. One of our teachers, a specialist in emergency medicine, told us that there has been an increasing number of overdose cases and that rapists have been known to use the drug to break down a victim’s defenses and ensure she has no memory of the attack. There is even an urban legend making the rounds, something about a rave somewhere near Grasse and a girl who took too much and set herself on fire before jumping off a cliff.

I’m so exhausted that I can’t think straight. Suddenly, without knowing where the idea came from, I’m toying with the notion of dissolving the tablets in her tea. I don’t want to kill Vinca; I just want her out of my life and yours. I often dream about her being hit by a car, about her committing suicide. I don’t want to kill her, but still I tip some tablets out into my hand and then from my hand into the mug of hot tea. It takes only a few seconds, during which it’s as though I am in two places at once, as though I am on the outside watching someone else.

I close the door and go back to my own room. I can hardly stand. Exhaustion overwhelms me, and I lie down on the bed, taking my folders and my notes. I have to study, I have to concentrate, but already my eyes are closing and I am being dragged down into sleep.

*  *  *

When I wake up again, it’s pitch-dark. I’m soaked with sweat, as though I’m running a fever. The clock radio reads half past midnight. I can’t believe that I’ve slept for eight hours straight. I have no idea whether you’ve been back in the meantime, Thomas. And I’ve no idea how Vinca is.

Panicked and terrified, I go and knock on her door. When there’s no answer, I let myself into the room. The mug on the nightstand is empty. Vinca is still asleep, still in the same position as when I left. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself, but when I bend down, I realize her body is cold and she’s not breathing. My heart stops; I feel a shock wave blast through me. I collapse onto the floor.