It’s a bit of a scary story, but it happened to me when I was in the fourth or fifth grade.
When I was in elementary school, my family lived in an apartment.
The walls of the apartment were thin, and we could hear the noise from the room next door.
I could hear the TV next door, and sometimes I could hear them giggling.
On the other hand, when I was making noise with my friends at home, the guy who lived in the next room would sometimes yell at me, “Shut up! I was often yelled at by the guy who lived in the next room.
This man next door, let’s call him “A-man.
He was what we would now call a DQN, or in the old days, a thug-like guy.
He always seemed to be in a bad mood, and I could often hear him yelling and fighting with his neighbors at night.
I didn’t like him (he yelled at me unreasonably and tangled with me on several occasions) and my parents didn’t like him either.
I remember my parents were also very disgusted whenever A-man made noise next door.
However, my father was also rather bloodthirsty, and when he got frustrated, he would sometimes go next door to complain, and every time he would get into a shouting match.
Every time he did this, we would get into a shouting match, so I think he was causing trouble with the neighbors.
Incidentally, the person A man was yelling at was a woman who lived with him.
Let’s call her, well, Ms. A. I think Ms. A was a beautiful woman from my point of view at that time.
I don’t know what kind of relationship she had with A-man. They may have been husband and wife, or they may have been lovers.
However, I heard that she had been violated by him, and she often had bruises on her face or some other injuries.
Once I saw her sitting in a phone booth.
At that time, she seemed to be in an exhausted or battered mood.
I couldn’t talk to her as a child.
Incidentally, the arrangement of the rooms was as follows: Mr. A’s room was in the corner, and ours was next to it.
So we were the only ones who were mainly affected by A-man’s noise.
Also, A-ko and my mother had a lot of interaction, and they used to stand around and talk.
My mother said, “You should break up with that man,” “Let’s talk to the police,” and Ako said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.
Then Ako said something like, “I don’t know what he will do to you if you do that,” and the conversation went around and around in circles.
Then came that night.
Unusually, I didn’t hear any yelling or fighting noises coming from next door.
I was having dinner with my parents, who had come home from work early, and we were having a family reunion.
Suddenly, I heard a door bang open from outside. and the sound of someone running away.
My father went outside to see if something was wrong, but after a while he came back with a bloodthirsty look on his face and shouted, “Call an ambulance! He shouted, “Call an ambulance!
It was Ako who was carried away by the ambulance, and A-man who ran away.
I don’t know how it happened.
My parents seemed to have heard what happened from the police, but they didn’t tell me anything.
However, I had an idea that Mr. A’s violence had probably put Ms. A in a very dangerous situation.
Fortunately, she was taken to the hospital and survived.
After that, I went to visit her with my mother. My mother was very worried about her.
However, as soon as she saw us, she went into a half-crazy rage.
I don’t know if it was a violent outburst.
The guy who was supporting the IV collapsed, and two or three doctors and nurses were desperately restraining him.
But what shocked me, and probably my mother, the most was not the way Ako looked, but the line she was yelling.
I asked her to help me, I asked her to help me, I asked her to help me.”
She just kept screaming that incessantly.
And we were kicked out of the hospital room by the nurse.
Yes, there was a lot wrong with me, if you think about it.
Why didn’t I hear anything from next door that day? Normally, I would definitely have heard something.
In fact, I could hear A-man opening the door. If they were fighting, we would have known at once.
If Mr. A had asked for help like that, there was no way we wouldn’t have heard it.
So why didn’t we hear anything that night?
A short time later, we moved out of our house.
The reason was simple.
I couldn’t stand the fact that there was no one next door and I couldn’t hear anything.
I suddenly started crying and screaming.
I think my parents were probably at their mental limit, too.
By the way, I have a little later story.
When I went back home for summer vacation after entering university, I once went to the apartment to check my memory.
The apartment had been remodeled, and the facade of those days was completely gone.
But the landlord was still active, so I was lucky enough to talk to him.
I heard that Ms. A left the apartment soon after she was discharged from the hospital, and that A man was caught by the police.
However, the policeman told the landlord that he had grabbed her head and slammed it against the wall several times.
The landlord said “It was hard to change the wallpaper”.
I was too scared to ask which side of the wall it was.
To be honest, maybe I was a kid and I’m trying to falsify my memory and think I didn’t hear anything.
I guess that would make my parents the worst people to ignore help.
But if my memory is accurate, and what happened that night is true, then how could it have happened at the worst possible time for Ms. A?
I don’t know why I didn’t hear anything at the worst possible time for Ms. A.
I feel some kind of impersonal malice.
