The following piece of fiction contains strong language and images of extreme violence. If you are not comfortable with such things, please do not read any further.
“I said shut the hell up, you stupid bitch!” A man’s voice clearly tore through the peace of Ron’s apartment. He groaned. The couple upstairs had been fighting incessantly all day- it seemed like he could never get a break.
Maybe I’m cursed, he thought. Cursed to have shitty neighbors for all time. It had been strange- for the past 6 months, everyone who lived in the upstairs apartment always ended up being like this- loud, argumentative, and clearly dysfunctional.
Suddenly, a shattering sound made Ron jump a little. “You fucking pig, next time I won’t miss!” a woman’s voice sounded.
Damn, you would think they would be out of dishes by now. That’s the fifth time this week, Ron groaned silently, turning his TV up.
They continued to fight for another hour or so, while he tried to drown them out. He had given up on calling the superintendent, and he wasn’t about to bang a broom on the ceiling while living below a woman who turned to projectile flatware as the first reaction to anger. So he had instead decided to live with it.
He sprawled out on his couch, and tried to focus on his movie.
“I have had about all I can take from you, bitch!”
“Oh, fuck you, you fucking prick.” Another crash joined the cacophony.
“Fucking slut… I’m bleeding!”
“Haha, good, you deserve it, asshole.”
“I’m gonna kill you, you god damn whore!”
“You don’t have the balls to!”
Ron groaned out loud. “Oh come on!” he shouted. “Knock it off!” Usually, they would ignore him, or shout back. But this time, he didn’t hear anything.
Wow, he thought. Maybe they actually listened? He smiled, smugly, and turned his TV down. Maybe he would actually be able to enjoy his evening at home?
Twenty minutes passed, and it remained silent. Ron felt a little uneasy, and … cold? Something didn’t seem right about it all. It’s none of my business, he thought to himself. Still… it wouldn’t hurt to just go upstairs and check. He had met them when they first moved in, but they didn’t seem like the kind to actually come to blows.
He sighed, and hit the pause button before standing up and heading out into the hall. I guess I’ll just go up under the pretense of asking if they’ve gotten their evening paper yet, he thought as he entered the elevator.
As the elevator went up, and the doors slid open, Ron felt that unusual chill again. There were no windows in the hallway, though, so it couldn’t be a draft. I wonder what it could be? As the doors of the elevator slid open, his feelings of uneasiness intensified.
He walked up to their door and knocked. No one answered. He waited a few minutes, and noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Quietly, he opened it, and peeked inside.
That’s when he saw it.
The man stood in the center of the room, with a large shard of glass in his right hand. He was spattered with blood, and had a large gash across his midsection and face. Lying prone on the floor was the woman, her throat and abdomen torn open roughly, and her tongue lying several feet away. Blood had soaked into the carpets and splashed all over the walls, and the entire room was frigid, like the inside of a meat locker.
The man turned around, and Ron lurched backwards in fear, expecting him to come at him. However, it was another case entirely. His face was wracked in an expression of pain and sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a weak sputtering. He took a step forward, and collapsed. Ron’s heart began to pound in his chest, and he became very dizzy. He reached into his pocket and produced his cellphone.
“Yes, I need to report an attack,” he stuttered, half-whispering. “We’re at 301 Union, Apartment 12B… come quickly!” Ron began to stumble. His head was swimming. What the hell was going on?
He took another look into the room. For a second, he thought he saw someone else… a man and a woman were sitting on the couch across the room. Had they been there before? The man stood up, and began to say something to Ron, but he couldn’t here anything.
Ron opened him mouth to call out to them, but he found he couldn’t say anything… his mouth felt like it was being squeezed tightly by a pair of rough hands. Just then, he felt his face hit the linoleum by the entrance, and darkness overcame him.