Chapter 3: Crush

Her screams would often echo in my head and I wished that one day I would hear her fight back. When I first moved in, it was hard to adjust and I still am not able to listen very long. The scariest time their fight reached me through the walls was when I heard the man violently raping her. I cried for her and begged the police to come and help her. When the police arrived, I was dumbfounded to hear the woman pleading with the officers, telling them that the man wasn't harming her in the least and that she was very happy with him. They let him off without any trouble and they left as soon as they came.

After that, I decided to stay away from their drama and try to block it out. I didn't want to risk letting the man know that I was the one who ratted him out to the cops. I dreaded to think about what he might do to me if he found out. The rest of my neighbors weren't as bad as they were, although, they weren't considered good. The people below me always had a party going on and always had music blasting. The people above me had hardwood floors so I could hear their footsteps as if they were in the same room as me. The guy who lived to the left of my apartment was pretty silent and I didn't notice him most of the time, but when I did it was for one thing only.

This guy would often bring prostitutes back to his place at night and I would catch the live show. I was disgusted every time their moans rattled through the thin division that was considered a wall, and had to put headphones in just so I could stop picturing things. At least on that side of the building it was consensual. I wondered why I hadn't become like these people, considering how long I had been exposed to such behavior. I also wondered when I would snap after so many years of living like this. I had guessed that in my own way, I had adapted to this rough lifestyle, and I wasn't nearly as scared as I used to be. 

My mom died when I was sixteen and I remember that was the most terrified I had been in my life. I didn't even know who my father was. I had no other family and I was left to take care of myself and finish high school on my own. I barely graduated and I was able to live off of customer service jobs and learned to save my money for rent. Eight years later, I am now a pro at being alone. I couldn't go to college since no one accepted the applications I sent. I didn't blame them. My grades were crappy and I might as well have gotten a zero on my SAT. I couldn't afford college anyway, and most scholarships required a talent that I didn't have.

I didn't have time to have a talent. I was too busy trying to survive. Now I was stuck. I was stuck living in the dirtiest part of a city that I didn't care about. I constantly tried to think of solutions so I could find a way out, but all of them needed money. Money that I didn't have. I had to accept that I wasn't meant to escape. I was going to spend the rest of my life here, get an abusive boyfriend, have ten kids, start drinking, and die of an overdose just like my mother. The thought of becoming my mother scared me to hell. I didn't want to be a woman with such little self-respect. I didn't know where I learned to have self-respect in the first place, but I didn't want to lose it.

After I was able to tune out the loud noises that surrounded me, I drifted off to sleep, and with that, the anxiety was gone for a sweet moment of unconsciousness. Once morning came I was awoken by my alarm from my phone that was on the floor beside my pistol. In the mornings, the city tended to be quieter. It was unnerving how quiet this insane neighborhood could be during the day. It was almost peaceful. Then the sounds of the highway and more sirens made themselves known in my ears. I sighed and stood up from the couch to turn off my alarm. 

Once the alarm was off, I noticed the nausea my brain experienced and did my best to stand up. After a headrush, I put on the pile of clothes I had taken off the previous night and got ready for work. Once almost every part of me was covered with thick layers, I built up the courage to leave my apartment again. I didn't bother trying to eat breakfast and left, locking the door behind me. I avoided stepping on the leftover beer bottles and red plastic cups that littered the floor as the aftermath of the parties that went on all night. People were still passed out everywhere and the crunching of the carpet made my nerves twinge in disgust. 

I reached the ground floor when someone walked past me in a hurry. My heart leaped once I saw that it was him. This man was different than anyone else who lived in the building. He was very well put together and carried himself with a sense of dominance and respect. I never expected someone who lived in the slums to have such a great posture. He walked as if he were striding on air. Ever since the first moment I saw him, I had become enthralled by him. He was my motivation for waking up in the morning. I would leave my safe home and ride into the depths of hell if it provided a chance of running into him that day. 

Seeing him made my heart pound, and I wanted nothing more than for him to look at me. He had no idea I existed, and I didn't blame him. I only ever walked out of this place looking like another ordinary bum. Still, I couldn't stop myself from yearning for him. I didn't even know his name but I had been head over heels for him for more than a year. I knew nothing about him, but I did know that no one messed with him. He was so intimidating that everyone who saw him moved out of the way. I didn't know which apartment he lived in, but I knew that he lived in one of the apartments in the basement halls. 

I was amazed that there were apartments down there, considering that there was a rave room right at the bottom of the stairs that never slept. The upstairs tenants were sketchy, but the basement tenants were on a whole new level. I never dared to go down there because of all the rumors that spread around the building about the people who lived there. The rave was always supplying illegal substances, but I heard that actual murderers lived in those apartments. The only things going on down there other than the constant noise were drugs, sex, and death.