In the Summer of 1990 in Champaign - August 13th to be exact - all of the freshmen were moving into their dorms. Their proud parents seeing them off toward their bright young futures. Moms crying - dads puffing their drunken chests as their sons tossed footballs over their heads with yucks - nearly breaking their necks reaching for the throw. It was a happy time. A family time. A milestone upon the walk of life. Freedom was riding high upon the kids minds - who just couldn't wait for their folks to get the hell out of there - so they could start drinking and fucking their brains out.
What a beautiful day it was - the sun was high in the sky and all the girls were laying out on the grass in bikinis. Tanned and wet from sweat and coconut oil - they never looked or smelled hotter. Scattered by errant frisbees and balls thrown their way - made them jump up and bounce their pretty young titties. Boys ran up and apologized spilling beer like they were jumping for some heroic touchdown - instead of a making an awkward play for snatch. But it was certainly fun - extremely fun. Dads kept sneaking obvious glances at the young girls and moms grabbed them bitching about everything. It was a perfect day for everyone. Except Jennifer.
Jennifer had spent the last two months there - going to one easy class and enjoying the laid back life of summer school. Sunning all afternoon after a couple bong hits - toting a towel and a margarita in a plastic beer glass. One great afternoon after another. Groundhog day. The entire summer blurred together into a series of drunk hookups and strange distorted nights. Stumbling home in the morning with short dresses on and broken heals across the quad - the walk of shame. Much better than high school - new horizons, new boys and nobody screaming at them. Jennifer grew up in Elmhurst.
She had a great summer except for Richard. Richard met her at a popular campus bar called Kams. They had kissed a little - but she was drunk and wanted to leave. But Richard kept pushing. So she finally gave him her number to make him stop. It worked. Her friends came to the rescue and pulled her away. But Richard kept calling. Not unlike most boys - but there was something different with him. She didn't feel comfortable - so she never agreed to meet him out. But he kept watching her at bars. But eventually - she stopped noticing him.
But Richard kept at it. Late night calls. Notes left on her car. He had even started hanging outside her apartment watching her from afar as she laid out in the sun with her friends. By August - his stalking had apparently stopped and Jennifer was relieved - ready to start the Fall semester. She had some good classes scheduled with a lot of friends. Today was Monday. A beautiful, sunny afternoon. And Jennifer was looking forward to a nice nap before dressing up and heading out to the bars. After planning to meet up with her friends - she headed back to her apartment - just a hundred yards away.
Richard was waiting inside. He didn't really know why. He wanted to confront her - to try to explain himself. He felt like an idiot. Calling her and leaving drunken messages - scribbled notes on her car. He felt foolish and alone. He would wait for her and talk. Then the moment came - she walked through the door. He was hiding inside a front closet. She quickly walked to the bathroom to shower tossing her towel to the couch. She stripped off her bikini in the bathroom - then sat down to pee. She turned on the shower then walked back to the kitchen to get some water. Richard stepped out of the closet.
Richard kept pleading with her - begging her to put down the knife. He grabbed at it and got hold of the blade. She yanked it away opening large slice wounds on each of his hands. Enraged - he got hold of the knife again forced her to drop it. He picked it up and and pulled her toward him stabbing her over and over again in the arms and chest. The police report said over a hundred times. Richard started wheezing and shaking - then burst out of the apartment door down the hallway - dropping the knife as he rounded the stairs. He fell out onto the outdoor parking garage - then into the sunlight and back towards his room.
Jennifer stood up slowly. She was coughing and gasping - but felt driven to get out and call for help. She stumbled down the hallway and somehow made it to the door which opened onto the stairs leading to the parking garage. She made it down the stairs and onto the pavement. People were walking by just as she appeared. Too horrifying for screams - Jennifer fell dead right behind her own car. The police arrived within 15 minutes. A crowd gathered slowly trying to catch a glimpse of her - stirred by mumbles and whispers.
The building still stands as it did that day. The blood stained stairs have been rebuilt. The carpet on the second floor has been completely replaced. Everything has been scrubbed clean. The students have come and gone for more than twenty years now. Long enough to erase all traces and memories. Every time I walk by 105 E. Daniel - especially on sunny August days when the dorms are intensely alive with frisbees, bikinis and laughter - I remember that trap door. And keep on walking.
