So I have these neighbors. They're a bf/gf pair living in sin, and she is adorable and he wears a suit everyday. They buy a lot of groceries, and I think her name starts with a K. Sometimes they fight and I can hear them. Sometimes they scream at the top of their lungs. Sometimes he blasts metal rock around dinnertime. For the most part, they're just normal people.
Last night, I heard him hitting her. She was screaming at him, and also for help, but mostly just at him. He called her a "stupid fucking whore pig."
Now before we all start holding hands and singing that Suzanne Vega song about living near people with anger management issues, let's assess the situation. I can call 911 and report a domestic disturbance. I can ignore the situation. I can report them to my building manager. I can knock on the door and ask them to keep it down.
My solution? Well, first I listened at my front door because he was yelling so loudly that I couldn't make out the words he was using. She was telling him not to hit her, then in the next breath, refusing to leave the apartment. When she started screaming for help, I ran to my phone and called Sean - I needed an outside opinion. I needed to hear a rational voice - the voice of someone who would never, under any circumstances, lay a hand on me.
Crying, I called 911 to report the situation. Through my tears, I hoped that she-whose-name-starts-with-a-K would smarten up and leave his skinny, suited ass. I worried about calling in the complaint, worried that he would deduce who had called and come after me. I worried about being safe and feeling safe in my own home.
I went downstairs to greet the police and let them into the building.
They never showed.
I spoke at length with our property manager today, getting her input, detailing the situation. I feel as if there is nothing more I can do. I can't say anything, as much as I desperately want to. I can't do anything for fear that he may turn on me. All I can do now is pray for them, hope for the best, and cross my fingers that neither one of them reads this blog.
Last night, I heard him hitting her. She was screaming at him, and also for help, but mostly just at him. He called her a "stupid fucking whore pig."
Now before we all start holding hands and singing that Suzanne Vega song about living near people with anger management issues, let's assess the situation. I can call 911 and report a domestic disturbance. I can ignore the situation. I can report them to my building manager. I can knock on the door and ask them to keep it down.
My solution? Well, first I listened at my front door because he was yelling so loudly that I couldn't make out the words he was using. She was telling him not to hit her, then in the next breath, refusing to leave the apartment. When she started screaming for help, I ran to my phone and called Sean - I needed an outside opinion. I needed to hear a rational voice - the voice of someone who would never, under any circumstances, lay a hand on me.
Crying, I called 911 to report the situation. Through my tears, I hoped that she-whose-name-starts-with-a-K would smarten up and leave his skinny, suited ass. I worried about calling in the complaint, worried that he would deduce who had called and come after me. I worried about being safe and feeling safe in my own home.
I went downstairs to greet the police and let them into the building.
They never showed.
I spoke at length with our property manager today, getting her input, detailing the situation. I feel as if there is nothing more I can do. I can't say anything, as much as I desperately want to. I can't do anything for fear that he may turn on me. All I can do now is pray for them, hope for the best, and cross my fingers that neither one of them reads this blog.
<< Home