Chapter 3

Carl shot to his feet. "What the hell are you talking about? We weren’t renovating at all tonight! We went to bed early! You’re the one who came banging on our door and scared my wife into a heart attack. That’s why we turned the lights on!"

Lying on the floor, Linda let out a perfectly timed groan. "Oh... my heart..."

"Officer, they’re setting me up," I argued, refusing to back down.

Officer Keller looked at them, then at me. He stepped inside their unit to take a look. When he came back out, his expression was complicated.

"There’s no sign of renovation in there," he said. "Are you sure the drilling came from their place?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"But there’s no drill in use," he replied. "All their tools are put away."

My stomach sank.

Then it hit me. In the twenty minutes before the police arrived, they’d had more than enough time to hide everything.

Carl looked at me with a smug grin, like there was nothing I could do.

Officer Keller let out a sigh. "Miss, I understand how you feel, but situations like this are best resolved through mediation. You're neighbors. You’ll see each other every day. Letting things escalate won’t do anyone any good."

He gave my shoulder a firm pat. "That’s enough for tonight. All of you, take a step back and get some rest."

Officer Keller then left.

Linda pushed herself up off the floor and looked at me with satisfaction. "So? The police are gone. What else have you got?"

I dug my nails into my palm, using the pain to keep the fury inside me from boiling over.

She leaned against the doorframe, already cracking open a fresh bag of chips. "I’ve lived here eight years. You think I haven’t dealt with troublemakers before? I can handle a dozen girls like you without breaking a sweat."

"Photoshopping fake medical records? That’s hilarious." She laughed out loud, then tossed a package from inside her apartment toward me. "This yours? Don’t thank me. I brought it up for you."

It was the new outfit I had ordered. The packaging had been ripped open, and inside, the clothes had been cut to shreds, leaving nothing but scraps of fabric.

Linda clapped her hands, then stepped right onto the ruined clothes, laughing. "I’ve already spoken to the delivery guy. From now on, all your packages will come to me first.

"If anything goes missing or gets damaged, don’t blame me. Should’ve thought about that before buying your place so cheap and making us take the loss."

Again and again, she pushed further.

I stared at her, my gaze locked.

She frowned and snapped, "What are you looking at? My husband’s right inside."

"Nothing," I said through clenched teeth, my voice low. "Just reminding you of something. The doctor said people with my condition shouldn’t be provoked. If I get triggered, I lose control."

She let out a sharp laugh. "Lose control? And what exactly are you going to do with those skinny arms? I could knock you flat with a single slap."

I spoke softly, "You can try. The price of triggering me… isn’t something you can afford."

"Freak," she snapped, slamming the door shut.

She wasn’t wrong.

Something was wrong with me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have sent a grown man straight into the ICU during an episode.

During the two years I spent in the psychiatric hospital, even the doctors didn’t dare raise their voices at me.

And now that I was out, I had to put up with this?

I tamped my anger down and went back inside, splashing cold water on my face.

Then I remembered that I hadn’t taken my medication today.

I had just stepped into the living room.

Click.

Everything went dark.

I thought the power had gone out.

Feeling my way through the darkness, I reached for my phone in the living room. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my knee.

I had slammed into the edge of the table. Grimacing, I found my phone and turned on the flashlight, then walked over to the window.

Outside, two figures stood on the balcony of Unit 601.