Today I heard screaming, loud, terrified, screaming, coming from my neighbor’s apartment. The wails were piecing, but not more so, than the baby’s screams, or the sounds of objects being flung to the floor.
I grabbed a broom and banged on the cement ceiling, hoping it would stop what I feared was happening.
It did not.
Instinct made me run, barefoot, in pajamas, without heed to my own well being, up the stairs. I banged on the walls as I ran. I feared for the lives of the woman and child. The door opened immediately. A man, wearing a black coat and hat, popped his head out as I asked if everything was alright.
“Yes, everything is fine.”, he said, in an irritated voice before slamming the door shut.
I didn’t believe him.
The women’s wails and baby’s cries from inside gave another story. I could not understand her. She does not speak English. Yet the words were not important, the fear was. It was fear that caused me to run back down the stairs. It resonated within my soul and called me to action. I could not stand by and let those cries go unanswered.
I called the police.
This is not the first time it has occurred or the first time I have called for help.
I know it won’t be the last.
May God keep her till she finds the courage to leave.
NOTE: I’m writing this post as the Police interrogate the
animal man in the apartment above me. They arrived within 5 minutes of my calling. I know I did the right thing, yet a part of me still fears that this will only make it worse for the woman and child. I pray I am wrong.
What would you have done? Would you have called?