My neighbours called the police again last night, complained about all the noise coming from my apartment. The apartment I died in three days ago. All the uniforms did was give a courtesy knock, speak to the roommate who killed me and consider their job well done because he assured them he'd keep the music down.
He threw the radio out this morning and I'm running out of ways to make enough of a commotion to bring the police inside before he has the time to dispose of my body. He knows what I'm trying to do but he hasn't figured out any other way to stop me aside from removing all the electronics.
What he doesn't know is that I managed to make myself visible this morning and wave to a jogger. I hope they saw my caved-in head and I hope they go to the police before he finishes loading me into black bags. He'll throw me down the laundry chute, load me into his car and take me to god only knows where but I know I won't be found and he'll get away with it.
Every footstep I hear could be my salvation.
Someone has to notice that I'm gone.
Surely someone would notice.
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