Riding up the elevator, I’m excited to see Caroline again. I feel bad about how I left things and I hope she didn’t go to her parents’ yet. I’d love to have a fun evening watching something funny. I unlock the door and call her name. No answer. Shit. I guess she left already. I drop my bag on the floor in front of the kitchen island and knock on her bedroom door. No answer again.

I turn the knob slowly. I don’t want to wake her in case she’s sleeping.

When I open the door, I immediately feel like something’s wrong. I see her lying spread-eagle on her back on top of the covers. She’s wearing her pajamas and her arms and legs are spread wide open. She looks as if she might be asleep, but I’ve never seen her sleep that way before.

“Oh my God…Caroline! Caroline!” I run over to the bed. I shake her, trying to rouse her. I turn her head and see that there’s vomit around her mouth and on the bedspread.

“Caroline, Caroline, please!” I yell. My whole body starts to shake as I pull her down to the floor and start doing CPR. “Please wake up, please wake up.”

I press down on her chest three times in quick succession. I wipe her mouth with the back of my hand, cover her nose, and breathe into her mouth. I don’t know if this is the right way of doing it. Something in the back of my head says that they no longer advise to breathe into the mouth to revive people, but I have no idea if I’m remembering that right. I continue to press down on her chest and breathe into her mouth because that’s what I’ve seen people do in movies and right now I’m at a total loss as to what else to do. Without stopping CPR, I dial 911.

“Please help. I came home and my roommate is unresponsive on the floor. It looks like she passed out and threw up and now I can’t wake her.”

My voice is rushed and frantic, but the older woman’s soothing voice on the other line puts me somewhat at ease. She asks for my address and dispatches officers and an ambulance. Then she asks me to do CPR. I tell her that I have been without much response.

“Just keep doing that until someone gets there. They aren’t far away.”

I hear their sirens in the distance. A minute later, they burst through the door, which I luckily forgot to lock behind me. I hang up the phone as soon as our apartment fills with people. A police officer helps me up as the paramedics start to work on her and leads me to the living room.

She starts asking me questions, which I answer completely in a daze. All of my thoughts keep focusing on Caroline. Please be okay, I chant over and over. Please, be okay. You have to be okay.

Tears are welling up in the back of my eyes and I try to keep them at bay. The police officer puts her arm around me, but it only makes me feel more alone.

More and more people stream into her bedroom and come out with grave expressions on their faces.

“What’s going on?” I ask. The cop keeps asking me questions, but I no longer answer them. I’ve told her enough and now I need some answers myself. Just as I’m about to go back into Caroline’s room, the paramedics come out with the gurney. But instead of seeing Caroline’s sweet face, all I see is her body in a bag.

“What’s going on?” I ask. “Caroline? Why do you have this bag zipped up? She can’t breathe!”

I become hysterical. Whatever tears I managed to keep at bay thus far, break free and stream down my face. I try to push my way to her. I need to unzip that bag. I need to help her breathe. But they’re not letting me. They’re blocking me.

“You’re killing her!” I scream. “You’re killing her. She can’t breathe like that.”

“I’m so sorry, honey,” someone says to me in a low voice. “She’s dead. She’s dead.”

Everything turns black. Nothing makes sense anymore. I see people moving all around me, but they’re no longer real. They are just copies of people. Actors maybe. Maybe none of this is real after all. How can it be? How can the world go on without Caroline in it? My sweet, funny, kind Caroline?

They take Caroline’s body from our apartment and it’s as if she has gone to her parents. Her clothes are still hanging in her closet and her room is just as she has left it. It feels like she just stepped out, or maybe went away on a short trip. It definitely doesn’t feel like she’s dead. And yet, that’s what she is. At least, that’s what they say.

Aiden is in the kitchen making me tea. Someone called him using my phone. He came over after they wheeled Caroline away. There are no more police or paramedics in my apartment. They did their jobs and went on their way to some other emergency. They did what they were supposed to do and now I’m left here picking up the pieces. All alone. Well, not all alone, but it surely does feel that way. Aiden isn’t Caroline and he never will be. No matter what he says or doesn’t say, she’s not coming back.

He offers me a cup of tea, but I no longer want it. It doesn’t feel right to have tea when she’s gone. It doesn’t feel right to do anything when she’s no longer here. I go to my room and climb into bed.