Sunday, Oct. 8, 2017
This is my story. The story of a woman who thought her roommate was kidnapped.
It’s Sunday evening and I’m sitting on my bed working. Or trying to work. My roommate just got home from a three-week Ireland vacation and after some catch-up time, I retreated back to my room.
Somewhere between 8 p.m. and 9 p.m., I hear her keys. This is a typical sound at this time because it’s time to take her dog out to potty and do-do. I hear the keys or some kind of rummaging coming from the kitchen island and think nothing of it.
About 20 minutes to possibly an hour go by. I really don’t know how much time because I was not paying attention. I suddenly realize that my roommate is not back from taking Winston out. I spring up from bed and head out the door.
The stairwell next to our door went through some changes while she was in Ireland. The bottom door that leads to outside no longer opens. I’m not sure why, but now it’s permanently shut, which means that exit is no longer a viable option to let Winston out. For the past three weeks, I used a different exit to let him out. However, I forgot to tell my roommate about that.
Thinking maybe she was stuck in the stairwell, I go and open the top door thinking maybe she had left her keys in the apartment and was unable to get back in (sometimes she does by accident). I didn’t see her.
I go back inside the apartment and find her keys. Uh oh, she left to take Winston out without her keys, I thought.
I begin to walk to the other stairwell exit with her keys in my hand and call her. When she doesn’t pick up the phone, I start to panic. Did she also leave her phone in the apartment, I think. She was gone for three weeks and it’s not crazy to think she lost the muscle memory of grabbing her phone and keys to take Winston out. She’s jet-lagged, it’s not crazy.
I exit the apartment complex and begin walking around outside. The sun has completely set and at this point, I believe it’s been about 20 minutes and my roommate has not returned. Typically it takes about five to seven minutes to take Winston out.
I call 911.
911 what’s your emergency?
My roommate went to take the dog out and she hasn’t returned. (I am crying at this point.)
How old is she?
How long has she been gone?
I don’t know. Maybe 20 minutes.
OK, give her time, she might be walking the dog.
No, no, she doesn’t walk the dog. (He’s a very lazy dog, she’s a very lazy person.)
What is she wearing?
A tan long cardigan (that I just bought her) and white shorts (that I absolutely hate and wish she would throw away).
OK, we’ll send someone your way.
At this point, I am crying. I am bawling. I am wondering why it took me 20-plus minutes to realize she was gone and why I didn’t go looking for her sooner. I walk up and down the stairwells, praying I don’t see her dead body laying there. I’m sorry if this is gruesome but that is what I was thinking.
I call our friend Layne.
He tells me he’s at Eatzis, but he will be there as soon as possible.
I call Brad.
He tells me to calm down and maybe she just went for a walk.
Everyone was trying their best to calm me down, but all I can think is she’s been taken. Every person I see outside I think is the kidnapper. When Brad suggests that maybe she went on a walk, I begin to think that maybe she needed time away from me and took a long walk. And then got kidnapped. And that I’m the reason she’s been kidnapped.
Layne arrives within minutes and begins shouting her name. He keeps yelling “Kassidy!” over and over again while I sob hysterically.
I tell him through the tears that maybe she’s back upstairs waiting at the door. Maybe she’s made her way up but can’t get in because I locked the door.
Layne and I get in the elevator and when I don’t see her waiting outside the door, I cry louder.
I get my keys out to open the door and my hands are shaking so badly, I can’t the key in. Layne holds my hands still and I turn the lock.
I hear Winston bark loudly.
We walk in and head to Kassidy’s room.
She’s sleeping soundly.