Maude - Elodie's disappearence

Maude has barely left their apartment for weeks now. They wait an agonizing wait, fearful to leave for even a second too long and somehow miss her walking back through that door. Back into Maude’s life.
They sit on the old, peeling couch (Elodie talked about throwing it away with every new cigarette burn that melted through it’s upholstery. Now, the left side retains the ghost of her shape). They stare at the similarly disrepaired coffee table (full of stains, a memory of every time Elodie spilled her drinks like it was an excuse not to consume them). They try to understand the neatly stacked piles of cash in front of them (a disgusting sum. Maude has counted and recounted enough times to know exactly how many years of work it would take them to save that much).
The last time Maude saw Elodie plays in their head, over and over, like a scratched record.
“Please,” Maude had begged, “You can’t keep me out of this. I think… I’m scared.” The words of you linger like the smell of rancid meat from the butchery below.
Elodie tried her best not to meet Maude’s eyes, head hanging low as her fingers curled into little fists. Angry? No, she was never angry when it came to Maude. Maybe sad. Frustrated. Desperate.
“It’s nothing, Mop,” she said without a shred of her usual confidence. The words never rung so hollow the way they did that night. Elodie knew she sounded like a liar, and worse, she knew Maude saw her for it.
“It can’t be nothing. I know it’s not nothing. If you’re in trouble... I can help. I can do something. Let me do something. Anything.” Maude reached for Elodie’s arm but she recoiled like she’d been burned, folding in on herself as her fists clenched tighter and tighter.
Even then, she still wouldn’t look up. “Just trust me.”
They were supposed to be best friends. Roommates. Partners in crime. Soulmates. Elodie was Maude’s everything. But in that moment, as Elodie denied over and over, as she backed herself against the door like she was about to flee, Maude felt like… they were nothing.
They tasted first the salt against their lips before they realized they were crying.
“None of this… the money, the car, it’s not normal. I know that. You know that. I… I think it’s hurting me to pretend it is. I just want the truth. Please?” The words tumbled out of Maude’s mouth, pleading and desperate. It was a last resort.
The silence that followed was so heavy it could have strangled Maude to death.
After too long, Elodie finally looked up. Maude struggles to remember the look in her eyes; whether it was something indiscernible or hurt too much to recall, they can’t be sure. All they knew were the last words she said before she disappeared.
“It’s okay, Mop. Just go to sleep.”
Tears stained their cheeks as they went to bed, and in the morning Elodie was nowhere to be found. For days she was gone. While at first it was not entirely unusual for her recent behavior, the change came when Maude woke to find that sinister pile of cash on the coffee table and a carefully folded note.

I’m sorry, Mop. Love you. Don’t come looking for me.