Reaching the top of the stairs, Danny knocked on the first door on the right. 

“Becka, it’s me, Danny. I come in peace.” He said, repeating something she had said to him when they first met, when she asked if he was dangerous – do you come in peace? “Becka. . . ,” he knocked again, but again, no answer.

He put his ear to the door to try and hear any movement from within – nothing.

When he was sure that there was something terribly wrong, Danny leaned back, lifted his leg high into the air, almost smashing his knee into his chest, and kicked in the door. As the door flew open, he was once again met by silence.

The  apartment had the a very similar layout to his. The kitchen and the living room where separated by a ten foot counter straight ahead as you walked into the apartment. To the left as you walked in was a coat closet and a small bathroom. To the right where two bedrooms, one had the door open and the other, the door was closed.

Even though Danny had never been inside this apartment building despite having lived across the street for most of his life, he knew that the bedrooms to his right would have windows that look out over the street below and across to his apartment building and bedroom window.

The bedroom with the door open had kids toys on the floor, a picture of The Incredible Hulk on the wall and Spider-man sheets on the bed, not Becka’s room, he thought. Danny walked inside, towards the closed bedroom door. 

As he walked across the living room area, the floor boards creaked and groaned with his footsteps. At first it gave him false hope that maybe they were the grumblings from within the room with the closed door, from Becka walking around, but after he stopped and listened and the creaks stopped with him, he realized what was happening.

“Becka, it’s me, Danny,” he said, calling out to the closed door. “Just seeing if you’re OK.”

Underneath the closed door Danny could see the morning light shinning in from the bedroom window. As he approached the door he expected to see shadows moving inside, blotting out the morning light, a sign of the stirring of life from within, but he saw nothing.

“Becka,” he said, knocking on the door as he reached the bedroom. “Are you in there?”