The Reluctant Voyeur

The apartment was tiny. The living area held a small couch, just big enough for the woman and child to snuggle up on during those cool, dark nights. The kitchenette was larger than their last place but she could still stretch her arms and touch cabinet to cabinet. The one bedroom they shared was listed as a double but she laughed when the single they shared barely left room to open the wardrobe. It was a good place to lay their heads each night: even better because upstairs, off the hallway a little door led to a secret place.

It used to be a window. Sometime in the past a previous owner or tenant must have decided that replacing the glass would be too costly. Instead, a door was fashioned that only latched from the inside. When opened, if you were careful, you could crawl through the opening into a wonderland! Long forgotten, the wrought iron railing was held together with ivy cascading down the side of the building. The wooden floor of the balcony was worn but still solid beneath her feet. Roses had used the brick and mortar as a trellis and interspersed their luscious blooms among the heavy green foliage. The duo could look out of their fairy land, but no one could see in. They would spend hours out there on warm days playing out scenes that only their imagination could conjure

After the weather had turned, new neighbors moved in next door. As much as they tried to make friends, the duo were rebuffed by the married couple and told by the male to mind their own business. Shaking her head in pity, she took her child and forgot the rudeness of that day. Until -

As she lay in bed all warm and content, holding her child next to her heart, an argument could be heard through the thin walls behind her head. Afraid the noise would wake her child she quietly tapped on the wall to let them know they could be heard. The man begins to scream his vile taunts to her, again telling her to mind her own business. The argument increases and the sounds of slaps and punches punctuate the air. The cries and begging from behind her wall wake the child and chill them both with the violence of it. Grabbing a blanket and her child, they head to the living room to call the police.

The police find nothing untoward. There is no "proof" the man has done anything wrong and therefore nothing can be done. They leave, and the building goes on as it was just minutes before. The cursing from the man became so loud and discordant, the duo rest leaning against the back of the couch, avoiding their own bed.

The next day the recipient of his attack quietly pecks at her door. "Please, do not anger him again. He is not a man that can be trusted not to do something horrible." She begs the recipient to leave him and protect herself. She will help the recipient find a place of safety. "No, no, you don't understand. Just leave us alone!" is said as the recipient skitters to her own door like a mouse avoiding a trap.

She can't get the haunted eyes of the recipient out of her mind as she took her child to a friend's house for the day. Always liking the time spent there, the child begs the mother to let her spend the night. With a parting kiss, she leaves them to their fun and heads back home. Alone with her thoughts, she opens the little door and climbs out onto her sanctuary. The cold has killed off the blooms and the leaves aren't as plentiful as they had been just a few short weeks before. The decay of life lies at her feet as she stands there wondering how life can be so cruel for some: like her neighbor.

Closing her eyes and sliding down the wall, she plops her backside down to think and ponder. The sun begins to set and the night air sends chills into her body. Sighing with resignation, she opens her eyes to get up and sees - Oh my, could it be?

With a spring in her step, she rushes back inside, grabbing this, snatching that, going back to their little hiding place. After setting everything up, she goes back inside to wait. It isn't long before she can hear him and his boisterous rampage begin anew. This time though there is a twist. He is not berating his flat-mate, he is talking about HER! She hears the recipient beg him to put away his gun. She hears the slaps of hand against face and the thud of a body falling to the floor. In the blink of an eye she runs to her door, away from the cacophony of anger, to her sanctuary and protection.

The whir of the motor clicks and clacks as her camera catches it all: the gun, the pushing, the slaps, the barrel against the recipient's forehead, the twisting of the arms. It's all there, inside, waiting to be shared.

This time when the police show up he is taken away in handcuffs. The officers tuck the evidence in their bags as she signs a formal complaint. With no one willing to bail him out, he will not see freedom for a very long time.

The next morning a small bit of paper slides under the hallway door. Opening it, she sees two words staring up at her.

Thank you

Walking to the window she watched the mousy recipient move down the street, pack on her back and bag in her hand, never looking back. Smiling to herself, she turns away and grabs her coat. Her child awaits. They have a day of fantasy and fun to share.

October is Domestic Abuse Awareness Month. Please find a way to help if possible. Many are counting on you.