“All I needed was for someone to ask if I was okay. You asked. Please don’t forget me.”
I sat there for a long time, staring at the letter, the streetlight pouring through my window onto the empty bench across the road.
The terrified bride was the sanest person on the street. And the smiling man upstairs was the real danger.
I folded the letter and stood up. I wasn’t going to look away anymore.
I made a difficult choice that night. I took Elena’s letter, along with two other letters I’d recovered from neighbors who’d quietly ignored them, to a lawyer named Rachel, who specialized in guardianship abuse cases.
“This is enough to request an independent evaluation,” Rachel said, looking up from the pages. “I’ll take it pro bono.”
I walked straight back to the building and knocked on Marcus’s door. He opened it with that same easy smile.
“Daniel. What can I do for you?”
“Elena’s letter is with a lawyer,” I said quietly. “The court is ordering an independent psychiatric evaluation.”
His smile dropped in pieces.
