"April?"

Nothing.

He knocked again.

"April?" He asked a bit sterner this time.

He sighed and took out the key he had to their apartment. Opening the door he immediately knew something was wrong. It was quiet and unmoving in their small loft, which consisted of two rooms. The main room (doubling as a bedroom and kitchen)-and the bathroom. An open window chilled the room, sending willing goosebumps up his arms. He stood there, in the doorway, waiting for April to appear and greet him. But she didn't. He walked in hesitantly, as if he was afraid to interrupt the serenity of the room, and looked through the open door of her bathroom.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart stopped and his stomach dropped.

His head pounded with sudden conclusions.

There, on the floor of the cold bathroom, was April. She lay curled in a ball, her wrist pulled closely to her chest. Her autumn hair sprawled across the floor, trailing behind her. He could see the dark blood that had stained her shirt. Her blood. He could make out a small piece of paper next to her, but as horrified as he was, he couldn't read it. He turned and ran, out of the apartment he had lived in with her and down the street. Nothing was clear. The world had stopped. He ran past the blurs of people that he couldn't make out. He couldn't see them. He couldn't see anything. He was blind. He stormed into the Life cafe and slammed the door behind him, disturbing the clueless customers and workers. He couldn't see Mark sitting on the table talking to Benny and Collins, who suddenly looked confused, he couldn't see Maureen in the corner approaching him, and he couldn't see where he went. The only thing that reached his mind, blurring his other thoughts was April was gone, and Roger's heart was gone with her.