Page 128 of The New Couple in 5B

“Rosie?”

We all startle. “Rosie, where the fuck are you?”

Max. In my apartment.

I remember then that I gave him the keys to the street door, and the back entrance to my apartment, because he was worried about me and wanted a way in while Chad was away.

“Goddammit,” he says to no one, walking helplessly from room to room, his footfalls echoing. “What the fuck is going on?”

He’s holding his phone, must dial my number because I hear my ringtone. He finds the phone on the dining room table, looks at it with a worried frown.

“Oh, my God, Rosie. Where are you?”

Something about Max’s voice, his despair, it reminds me of who I am. That’s what friends do; they connect you to your best, strongest self.

“Tie her up and go manage him,” Charles barks at Abi, unlocking the storage cage and trying to push Sarah inside. But she starts struggling again, yelling against her gag, and then suddenly she uses all of her strength to charge the door he’s trying to close, knocking him hard against the wall. I hear his head hit with a horrible smack. He looks stunned, starts to slide down the wall.

Ella screams his name, racing to him, papers forgotten. And as hard as I can, I wrest free from Abi, push him back and then move in to punch him with everything I have, my fist landing right at the bridge of his nose. His hands fly to his face, stumbling back as blood gushes down his shirt.

I tackle him and bring him to the ground. Rage overtakes me and I punch him again, again, until he lifts his arms to block my blows.

“Please, please,” he begs, and I draw back, shocked at myself, my violence. Oh, my God, who am I?

Sarah is yelling, and finally I climb off Abi to untie her. When her arms are free, she wraps them around me.

Charles has sunk to the floor and Ella is wailing his name—all of us forgotten.

I press the button to the intercom and yell, “Max, it’s Rosie!”

He jumps, startled, and looks around, terrified. “Rosie!”

“Max, I’m in the basement. Chad and Olivia are hurt. Call the police.”

I hear his voice as he fumbles for the phone and dials.

I listen to the chorus of voices, people talking, televisions, music playing—all sounds from the apartments of the Windermere. And now, Abi’s weeping on the ground.

“Youwerelistening,” I say. “Watching—everyone.”

But Abi doesn’t answer, struggles to get to his feet, but falters, lies back weeping. He is not as powerful and strong as he seemed to me. He is old and frail and beaten. And Ella is still wailing over Charles’s still form, Sarah standing over them in a stance that says she’s ready to fight.

I puzzle a moment over the three of them, what sickness, what agenda, bound these three people together. But then I rush over to Chad, rest my head against his lifeless body.

With a rush of joy, I realize that he’s still breathing. He’s alive. Relief floods like a tsunami. I press my finger to Olivia’s throat. She’s alive, too.

Quickly, I move to untie them, and Chad rouses.

“Rosie, what happened?” he murmurs. His eyes are glassy, lips parchment dry. He reaches for me and pulls me tight.

“Charles and Ella,” he whispers, disoriented. “I think they’re trying to hurt us. They’re watching us. You were right about Abi. He’s like their henchman. You’re not safe.”

It’s a strange echo of Willa Winter’s ghostly warning. And once again I wonder at the way of things, the world, how mysterious and strange it all is.

“We’re okay,” I tell him, working his bindings free. “We’re all going to be okay.”

I almost believe it. He loses consciousness again, falling heavy in my arms. I try to wake him, but he’s out cold.

“Why did you do this?” I ask Ella.

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