Once Darcy returned to her room, she phoned Joe, telling him about the letter. He told her that he would come get it tomorrow. Confirming the date, she ended the call, and stared at her phone blankly for a solid five minutes. Suddenly, and as though she could no longer control her hand, the phone slipped right out of it, falling to the ground. Her eyes listlessly watched the crack form across the screen. Somehow, during that moment, she felt one with that screen. She had been whole, and now there was a crack inside her heart. Like the fragments, Darcy crumbled to the floor, weeping.

With a shaky hand, she took out the letter from her pocket. Her hazy and wet eyes scanned the words:

Hello, Quinn. I took your friend Karl. If you want to find him, you should reach out to his little crush Darcy. She’s a detective, isn’t she? I am sure that if you have her read his works, she’ll be able to determine where I hid him. Do not report that he’s missing, or tell the cops, unless you want him dead. You also can’t tell anyone about this letter. Trust me, I’ll know.

As clouded as her thoughts were, Darcy could somehow tell that the writing style did not quite correspond to the old janitor’s personality. But then again, how people speak and how they write can be irreconcilably different. Darcy was the living proof of that. Sighing, she stuffed the letter back into her pocket. Why was she in such a bad mood? She even cried.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. It was his life. It had nothing to do with her, and he had made that clear by avoiding her for a whole week. So why did she feel betrayed? He apparently did it frequently too, since that box was there in his closet. Of course he did, he was a different breed from her. He was the type to have a lover every day; she was the type to be stuck on one crush for a lifetime. They were inherently different people from the very outset. She should have seen it coming. But how could she have, when she couldn’t even predict her own feelings?

Disgusting. He was disgusting. That woman coming out of the room in a bra was disgusting. The old man who was following her was disgusting. This whole world was disgusting. And the most disgusting of all, was none other than Darcy herself. She cried herself to sleep that night.

She woke up to the third phone call from Joe. She had slept by the door and now had a sore throat and a runny nose. Great. She reached out to the already broken phone, and placed it by her ear:

“Geez, finally, Darcy.” The urgency in his voice chased away the drowsiness from her eyes. “What,” she gave her face one violent rub, “what is it?”

“The old man. He’s killed himself in jail.”

“What??” She got up too suddenly, and felt her entire nervous system break down.

“The prison guards found him hanging in his cell two hours ago.”

“Oh my god... then what about Karl? Did he say anything about where he took him?”

“They told me that they interrogated him yesterday. But whenever this Karl was mentioned he’d just start laughing like he did yesterday. They threatened him and all, but... he wouldn’t budge. I guess it was because he was planning to take his own life.”

“Did... did he kill him??”

“It’s highly probable that he did.”

“So now what?”

“Well, they’ve sent searching parties to where they estimate he would have taken Karl, so, we can only wait.”

“Okay. Thank you. Please let me know if anything comes up.”

Darcy hung up, and looked to the window on her left. The sun was blinding. Back to square one. And she had to tell Quinn, too. She didn’t want to as much as think about him, let alone talk to him. But she was his only medium to Karl, so she had to relay to him whatever news she had. It was a Sunday, so he should be in his room. His room... Darcy would never go there again.

Darcy dialed up Quinn’s number. It rang once. It rang twice. It rang three times. It rang four. Quinn picked up at the fifth ring.

“Hey.” His voice was weak and guilt-ridden.

“He killed himself.” Darcy went straight to the point. There was a silence. “The old man hung himself. They found him dead in his cell two hours ago. They’ve sent search parties to where they think Karl might be.”

“I see... Thank you... Darcy.”

Then there was silence again, neither of them talking, and neither of them hanging up, but both listening. They remained like that for a few minutes, communicating only with their shared melancholy, before Quinn drew a breath.

“I avoided you because I didn’t want to fall for you any deeper.”

“What?”

“I...I love you, Darcy. I did my absolute best to deny it, to undo it, but it’s pointless. I am hopelessly and completely in love with you.”

“Is this some kind of a sick joke?” Her voice was full of contempt.

“No! Of course not! I would never joke about something like this, I...”

 “Then you’re even worse than I thought.”

“... I know. I am not making any excuses. I just wanted to tell you how I felt because I couldn’t keep it in anymore. It’s driving me crazy.”

“I bet you’re talking while fucking someone right now.”

“Oh come on, Darcy! Even I wouldn’t stoop that low...”

“Wouldn’t you? I mean, you were getting high and having sex while the man who abducted your friend was being interrogated.” Quinn flinched at Darcy’s broken chuckle. “And now you say you love me... you’re sick, Quinn. I wish you hadn’t told me.”

“You’re... you’re Karl’s crush. It felt wrong for me to fall for you. But I couldn’t help it; the more I try to keep myself away from you, the more I find myself thinking about you. Those girls, I tried to forget you when I am with them, but I can’t even get aroused unless I get drunk enough to pass out. I am really sorry, Darcy. I am really sorry that I am like this.”

“That’s... that’s fucked up. How is that my fault? Why do I have to get hurt just because you fell for the wrong girl? What am I supposed to do, huh?” Darcy was furious. Just when she convinced herself that it was hopeless from the start, he tells her he loves her? Loves her and did all that? Ridiculous. Outrageous.

“Whatever you want.” Quinn’s voice seemed at the point of breaking.

“What I want is to have nothing to do with you anymore. I hope fucking around can heal your broken heart.” Not wanting to hear the impact of her words on him, Darcy hung up, and wept again.

Then the day began as it would as long as the earth would turn. Darcy would get dressed and would attend some of lectures and skip others. She would take notes when she found it interesting, and would scribble down notes about E.G.G when she found them boring. She would go back to her dorm as soon as she was done so she wouldn’t come across Quinn. She would take a long hot shower. She would cry there. Then she would go back to her room, feeling better after the Cathartic effect of the purifying hot water. Once inside, she would write her novel. The antagonist had started to form in her head. Then she would read some of her lecture notes. Then she would make something quick to eat. Then she would throw herself on her bed and think of Quinn and of how he had sat there. Then she would cry again. Then she would check her phone for any texts from him. Finding none, Darcy would cry once more. She would then read a detective novel and feel a little happiness welling up inside her. Then the book would end, and it would be as though a candle inside her suddenly went out. Then Darcy would go to sleep. She would dream of the man smiling in the rain from across the road. In her nightmares, his face would look like Quinn’s.