MIKE
The wooden door of Room 304 looked smaller than I remembered.
It was past midnight. The hallway of the freshman residence hall was dead quiet, save for the hum of an old vending machine at the far end of the corridor. I stood outside Eloise’s dorm room, still wearing my dark grey hoodie, my hood pulled low over my face.
My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I raised my hand, my knuckles hovering a few inches from the dark grain of the door. I wanted to knock. I needed to knock. I wanted to hear her soft voice from the other side, even if she was yelling at me, even if she was cursing me out. I just needed to know she was okay.
Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was her sitting on that cold floor outside the lounge, her eyes red, mascara running down
