What Keeps Me Alive At Night – Scary Story

What Keeps Me Alive At Night - Scary Story

And my job…it sucked. My new manager was hellbent on giving me a hard time at work. So much for using your network to get a job. It would be safe to say that I hated my life. I hated my job. I hated my new home if I could call it that. And I hated this city. But most of all, I hated my life without her. I missed her. I missed her smell. I missed her touch. I missed her kisses. I missed her smile. I missed being with her. 

But it’s all in the past now.

The first month was really hard for me. Emma wasn’t there when I needed her the most. Having a threesome with loneliness and depression every night can certainly break a lot of things inside you. It can completely change you as a person. And I didn’t even try to fight it. I completely gave in. Life quickly became pretty mundane. As I didn’t know anyone here, it was just work and home for me. Every single day. That’s all I did. 

Wake up. 

Go to work. 

Get harassed by my manager. 

Come home. 

Eat. 

Drown in self-pity and self-loathing.

Sleep. 

Or at least I tried to.

The thing is, the family living at apartment 7A right next door was really loud. The husband and his pregnant wife fought all the time and their small kids kept crying and shouting like feral children. As our apartments were connected on one side, we had shared walls in the bedroom, living room and kitchen. And that meant I was forced to hear everything. Their aggression-fueled arguments seemed to keep getting louder and louder every night. And I had to stay up listening to their incoherent jabbering even though all I wanted was to hit the sack. 

Then there were those nights when I got really concerned about the safety of the wife. It seemed like the husband had no qualms about physically abusing his pregnant wife and children like a freaking maniac. The wife would scream and scream and the husband would just keep pounding her incessantly. I used to freeze in my seat and think about the time I hit Emma and made her bleed. The pain she must have felt. The hatred she must’ve had for me. The agonizing screams of my neighbor’s wife reminded me so much of Emma’s pain that at times I couldn’t simply sit back and be a silent observer anymore. 

So I intervened. Sometimes to the aggressive F-bombs of the husband while at other times a fresh black eye of the pregnant woman would humbly request me to go back to my apartment. It was so disheartening to witness such violent domestic abuse so closely that I would stay up all night at times wondering about going back to my life and trying to make things right with Emma. Apologize to her for hurting her, for not giving her the love and attention she deserves, for taking her for granted and for trying to mould her according to my perception of what a good girlfriend should be like. 

And all that lack of sleep would come back and bite me you know where the next day at work. My manager could easily notice how sleepy I was and would gladly take this opportunity to humiliate me in front of the whole office. Life was just peachy.

But then there were those rare moments when everything seemed to be calm and serene next doors and I could catch some much-needed shut-eye. Oh…how I loved those nights. And lately, things had been pretty low-key around here. It’s been almost a week that I could finally get some good sleep at night. Guess the husband came to his senses and started loving his wife. Or maybe he just up and left. Well, who cares? As long as I could live in peace, I was fine with it.

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