So I had an incredibly traumatic experience this week. I moved into my new apartment which I LOVED, and things have been going pretty great. Yes, the new place is not in that great of an area (sigh. I know, heard this before), but the price was TOTALLY right, and the apartment itself was in pretty good condition. I just figured I'd keep to myself and save money on rent. This is my first place I've had by myself in a very long time. Brother Matt and I got a roommate divorce and it seems to have vastly improved our relationship. Oddly we spend more time together while living apart then when we're sharing a one bedroom apartment. Strange. At any rate, the new place has been great so far and I've been really happy with it.
And then Monday night happened. I was fast asleep when I woke to the sound of a woman screaming her head off and the intermittent blows of a man beating the living shit out of her. I sleep holding my cell phone as it doubles as my alarm clock. So I immediately called 911, even before I could get to the peephole to try and confirm what my mind automatically recognized the sounds to be. It went on FOREVER. Grunt, sickening thud, more screaming, and repeat. I nearly went mad. Maybe I did. The whole time I was on phone with the 911 dispatcher and a good 7 minutes after... no exaggeration. It went on FOREVER. The only reason it came to an end was because a neighbor finally managed to grab her and drag her into his apartment and lock the door while the psycho was winding up. So then the perp grabbed her kid who couldn't have been much more than 5 years old, who also was screaming throughout this, and dragged him off down the 8 flights of stairs with him. The police sirens (thank God) were nearing by this point and he left the kid behind, realizing a screaming child wouldn't help him try to escape. The woman was pretty badly hurt; he had been using a fire extinguisher he ripped off the wall to beat her. The kid was physically alright. Blood on the walls, her ripped off weave on the floor. The whole thing was insanely disturbing and messed up. Savage.
When the detective came round to talk later I found out that this was (from what she said) all because she had tried to break up with him the other day. I've gotta assume there was a bit more to the story, but still pretty ridiculous. The child was not his. They had never lived together. He was not a tenant of the building. She did not live on that floor... but was trying to run to the safety of a friend of hers' apartment on our floor. The next day all the mess was cleaned up like nothing had happened, save the dented fire extinguisher still lying broken at the end of the hall. I wouldn't even have known it had happen had I been at work.
And now here I am, less than a month into my year lease, living in this place. Sure, domestic violence CAN happen anywhere. But my God. I'm terrified. I haven't been able to sleep there since. Yesterday I finally broke down at napped at Phils... I'm sure the fear will fade. But I'm scared. And just all mixed up. I know being unarmed and defenseless myself going out there would have been ridiculously stupid given the crazed bestiality of this very large man. But my gosh. The helplessness... of someone MANIFESTLY NEEDING HELP, and just not being in any position to do so... it's the most nerve-wracking experience I've ever had. I'd almost rather be beat down myself and hospitalized or crippled than have to experience that again. The frenzy of impotence and powerlessness in a critical situation is unbearable.
Regardless of whether I find a way to get out of this lease or not-- I'm still researching my options both financially and legally--, I'm finding myself no longer resistant to the idea of being a gun owner. I never want to feel that kind of fear and defenselessness for myself or another again.
Labels: no no no, this is all wrong, violence
