Page 31 of You'll Love it Here

“Oh, sure.”

He stomps past me fast enough to create a draft, pulling a flashlight and screwdriver from his tool belt as he leaves the apartment, which I didn’t expect.

Now I’m alone with Norm. Shit. He probably did overhear what Jamie said before. And he’s got something from my company on his fridge. Is that where he keeps the corpses?

I occupy my time with staring at the thing that’s supposed to light up and try to pretend I am not in a possibly life-threatening situation. I dare another glance at Norm. His headphones are back in their rightful spot on his head, pale pointy elbows poking out from either side of the chair as he clicks his game controller. So long as he stays absorbed in his game, I should be okay.

No sooner than the thought crosses my mind, the powers that be seem to decide I haven’t been screwed with enough. A beeping noise from the microwave is my only warning before darkness envelopes me.

It happens so fast that my brain takes a second to register that the power went out. It’s pitch black in here because Norm’s blacked out all the windows with cardboard.

“NO!” Norm yells, or more like screeches, followed by a crash—I think his chair. “My game! Myteam.”

I hear the sounds of Norm’s tall body fumbling in my direction. I stumble backward, my heart instantly in my throat.

“Hold on,” I say. “Just stay where you are.”

The sounds of glass shattering makes me yelp.

“Fuck!” Norm cries out.

Somewhere beyond this unit, I hear the sound of doors opening. Other tenants must be coming out to see what’s happening.

I need to get out of here. I feel the apartment walls and make my way toward what I hope is Norm’s apartment door. To safety. Meanwhile, Norm continues cursing and wailing.

Another beep sounds, and then the power surges on again, the lights flickering back to life. Norm snaps back into view. His eyes are pressed shut, a sheen of sweat on his patchy pink-and-white forehead.

Then I notice the smear of red. Blood is dripping from his hand.

“What happened?” I ask, frozen in place.

Surrounding Norm is a pile of broken glass and yellow liquid.That crash I heard must have been the cup I thought was filled with pee.

“I knocked a glass over,” he stutters. “I cut myself trying to catch it too late.” He holds out his hand just enough that it feels vulnerable. There’s a giant gash straight through the middle of his palm, blood pooling to the surface at incredible speed.

I don’t mean to suck air through my teeth. “Do you have some kind of cloth?”

His eyes flash like the idea never occurred to him as he tentatively steps around the glass and makes his way to a kitchen cupboard and pulls out a roll of paper towels.

Without announcement, the suite door bangs open and Jamie stomps back into the room. He looks at me and says, “I ended up cutting the power for longer than my usual, but we should be all good now.” He moves toward the hall and starts assembling his toolbox. “That place is done. Ready for across the hall?”

“You didn’t warn us the power would go out,” I hiss, gesturing toward Norm. “He’s hurt!”

Calling out Norm was obviously the wrong move, because he starts to bend into himself again, the mound of paper towels in his grip slowly darkening. He seems seriously uncomfortable with so much attention from us strangers.

“Ya didn’t think I’d keep the power running to change a breaker, did you?” Jamie doesn’t wait for an answer as he pulls out his iPad and taps it. “You ready, then?”

There’s nothing more I’d like to do than get the hell out of here, but Norm was intact when we showed up, and now he’s hurt, and I feel like that’s gotta be my responsibility. “Um, I think he might need medical attention.”

Norm’s eyes widen at my words. “No, I’m okay,” he says to his feet. The paper towels he’s holding are already fully saturated. They look like a crushed rose.

“Hey, let’s rinse you off.” I go to the kitchen sink and start running the tap, waving Norm over.

Jamie shifts on his feet. “I got a work order in Bankview coming up soon. How ’bout we schedule the rest of the appointments for...” He stares at his iPad and continues. “I’m booked solid until June eighth. I can come back then.”

I look at Norm, at the sink, and resign myself to my fate. This quick fix isn’t going to be so quick after all.

“Okay, sure,” I say. “I’ll call you.”