Never has a post label been more appropriate.
I can't believe what just happened. I can hardly breathe. I'm still trembling all over. The clicking of my laptop keyboard is making too much noise. He might hear me and I can't listen for him properly.
Those were the scariest 20 minutes of my life just now. And counting.
I had gone too bed quite late (what with all the packing and cleaning up before going away for the long weekend in the morning). And I was for some reason not sleeping very well, not very tight anyway, because at some point (round 2.20 a.m.) I was woken from a strange sound outside my door. And I mean right outside my door. [In case you don't know, my flat doesn't have a hall - the bedroom/living room/kitchen door adjoins directly to the landing outside. And the door is not like a proper outer door, either, just a normal bedroom door. Also, my flat is the only one under the roof, so no one whatsoever could have had any business there at that time of night.] And there was someone right outside it!
You wouldn't believe how quick your pulse can rise, from resting to sheer panic in less than three seconds! My mind was racing, I didn't have a clue what to do, I just got up and tiptoed to the door in the dark, mindful not to make the floor creak. I don't know what I thought I was doing, but I quietly pressed my hands very hard against the door lest he tried to force it open. And I held my breath. And listened. I could hear a male voice murmuring things, over and over again, I couldn't make out any words. Then he touched my door, a scratching sound, a soft touch on the door handle (but he didn't press it down), then I heard my cupboard on the landing being opened and shut (there's mainly shoes in it), more murmuring, whispering...
I thought I was going insane. I thought maybe I should talk to him, tell him to go away, but I was way too scared. I managed to grab my phone without actually moving my feet and clung to it as if it could save me. But I couldn't dial or speak, could I, 'cause he would've heard me! He wasn't ten inches away from me with just that thin piece of wood between us... So I waited. And listened. And waited. Finally, finally I heard him slowly walk down the steps. Mind you, just one flight of stairs, that's how I knew it must be that weirdo from one floor down. Only then did I manage to move and go to the bathroom and dialled 112 from there. I didn't know what else to do.
FYI, I told my story and they told me to dial 110 instead to get through to the police (yes, a more sober mind would've figured that out beforehand). So I dialled again, told my story again and the woman promised to send round a patrol. I tiptoed back, clutched both phone and mobile, sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Again. And listened. And tried to figure out how to let the police in, because when they came and I answered the intercom, we realized that the downstairs door was locked, so I couldn't buzz them in. They couldn't get to me! And I absolutely couldn't open my door, walk past the weirdo and open up for them, no way! The officers got slightly impatient - and who could blame them - but then one of them had the idea that I might throw my frontdoor key down to them out of the window.
That worked, thank God, and when they came up, they actually met the downstairs guy on the stairs, he had been waiting/hiding/whatever inside his landing-toilet. One of the officers talked to him (I only heard "There was a misunderstanding") for a while, the other came to me. Misunderstanding indeed! What a freak! The police officers both thought he was a total nutter,too. (No kidding?! I'd suspected as much.) Apparently he told them some story about how he had wanted to ask me (at 2.20 a.m.??) if he could use my washing machine at some point....??? I repeat, a total nutter. But that doesn't make it any less scary. They stayed and talked to me for a little while, said I was to ring again if he bothered me again, then left. And they were nice and understanding and all, patted my shoulder before leaving, but that guy downstairs is still there, right?! And he lives here and I live here and this situation is somewhat...let's say disconcerting.
No way in hell am I going to go to sleep tonight!
What a nauseating realization: I am not at all safe in my flat. I'd noticed before of course that my door is a joke - even I could kick it in if I wanted - but I'd never ever thought... I don't know.
So I'm not safe.
And I'm no good in the face of danger.
I simply froze. I didn't even dare to make those three steps to get my mobile for fear of him hearing the floor boards creak. Which they would've. It's an old house, that's how I knew there was someone outside my door in the first place. The creaking on the landing.
I can't defend myself.
And I'm cut off from everyone else, from possible helpers, from any escape route, if he is blocking the staircase. I should buy a rope and keep it somewhere. I should also ring my landlord first thing tomorrow and ask him for a better door, or at least a security bolt.
A big thank you to those two police officers who came and didn't tell me I'm crazy. This clearly goes on the list - you know, that same list that reminds you to always wear clean underwear in case you're ever in a car accident or something: Always wear proper pyjamas and keep your flat tidy in case you ever have the police calling round at 2.30 in the morning.
But they are not here now, are they? I can still hear him moving around downstairs, creaking floorboards, the latch of his door clicking shut (with him inside, I hope). I don't dare to even lean back, ready to jump up, heart beating, at the sound of him coming up the stairs again. Or any sound really.
The stuff of nightmares.
...
It's been quiet downstairs for a while now.
I think.
I'm almost sure he's gone to bed. Almost, but not sure enough to sleep myself. My ears won't let me.
Please, God, anyone, let morning come soon...
I can't believe what just happened. I can hardly breathe. I'm still trembling all over. The clicking of my laptop keyboard is making too much noise. He might hear me and I can't listen for him properly.
Those were the scariest 20 minutes of my life just now. And counting.
I had gone too bed quite late (what with all the packing and cleaning up before going away for the long weekend in the morning). And I was for some reason not sleeping very well, not very tight anyway, because at some point (round 2.20 a.m.) I was woken from a strange sound outside my door. And I mean right outside my door. [In case you don't know, my flat doesn't have a hall - the bedroom/living room/kitchen door adjoins directly to the landing outside. And the door is not like a proper outer door, either, just a normal bedroom door. Also, my flat is the only one under the roof, so no one whatsoever could have had any business there at that time of night.] And there was someone right outside it!
You wouldn't believe how quick your pulse can rise, from resting to sheer panic in less than three seconds! My mind was racing, I didn't have a clue what to do, I just got up and tiptoed to the door in the dark, mindful not to make the floor creak. I don't know what I thought I was doing, but I quietly pressed my hands very hard against the door lest he tried to force it open. And I held my breath. And listened. I could hear a male voice murmuring things, over and over again, I couldn't make out any words. Then he touched my door, a scratching sound, a soft touch on the door handle (but he didn't press it down), then I heard my cupboard on the landing being opened and shut (there's mainly shoes in it), more murmuring, whispering...
I thought I was going insane. I thought maybe I should talk to him, tell him to go away, but I was way too scared. I managed to grab my phone without actually moving my feet and clung to it as if it could save me. But I couldn't dial or speak, could I, 'cause he would've heard me! He wasn't ten inches away from me with just that thin piece of wood between us... So I waited. And listened. And waited. Finally, finally I heard him slowly walk down the steps. Mind you, just one flight of stairs, that's how I knew it must be that weirdo from one floor down. Only then did I manage to move and go to the bathroom and dialled 112 from there. I didn't know what else to do.
FYI, I told my story and they told me to dial 110 instead to get through to the police (yes, a more sober mind would've figured that out beforehand). So I dialled again, told my story again and the woman promised to send round a patrol. I tiptoed back, clutched both phone and mobile, sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Again. And listened. And tried to figure out how to let the police in, because when they came and I answered the intercom, we realized that the downstairs door was locked, so I couldn't buzz them in. They couldn't get to me! And I absolutely couldn't open my door, walk past the weirdo and open up for them, no way! The officers got slightly impatient - and who could blame them - but then one of them had the idea that I might throw my frontdoor key down to them out of the window.
That worked, thank God, and when they came up, they actually met the downstairs guy on the stairs, he had been waiting/hiding/whatever inside his landing-toilet. One of the officers talked to him (I only heard "There was a misunderstanding") for a while, the other came to me. Misunderstanding indeed! What a freak! The police officers both thought he was a total nutter,too. (No kidding?! I'd suspected as much.) Apparently he told them some story about how he had wanted to ask me (at 2.20 a.m.??) if he could use my washing machine at some point....??? I repeat, a total nutter. But that doesn't make it any less scary. They stayed and talked to me for a little while, said I was to ring again if he bothered me again, then left. And they were nice and understanding and all, patted my shoulder before leaving, but that guy downstairs is still there, right?! And he lives here and I live here and this situation is somewhat...let's say disconcerting.
No way in hell am I going to go to sleep tonight!
What a nauseating realization: I am not at all safe in my flat. I'd noticed before of course that my door is a joke - even I could kick it in if I wanted - but I'd never ever thought... I don't know.
So I'm not safe.
And I'm no good in the face of danger.
I simply froze. I didn't even dare to make those three steps to get my mobile for fear of him hearing the floor boards creak. Which they would've. It's an old house, that's how I knew there was someone outside my door in the first place. The creaking on the landing.
I can't defend myself.
And I'm cut off from everyone else, from possible helpers, from any escape route, if he is blocking the staircase. I should buy a rope and keep it somewhere. I should also ring my landlord first thing tomorrow and ask him for a better door, or at least a security bolt.
A big thank you to those two police officers who came and didn't tell me I'm crazy. This clearly goes on the list - you know, that same list that reminds you to always wear clean underwear in case you're ever in a car accident or something: Always wear proper pyjamas and keep your flat tidy in case you ever have the police calling round at 2.30 in the morning.
But they are not here now, are they? I can still hear him moving around downstairs, creaking floorboards, the latch of his door clicking shut (with him inside, I hope). I don't dare to even lean back, ready to jump up, heart beating, at the sound of him coming up the stairs again. Or any sound really.
The stuff of nightmares.
...
It's been quiet downstairs for a while now.
I think.
I'm almost sure he's gone to bed. Almost, but not sure enough to sleep myself. My ears won't let me.
Please, God, anyone, let morning come soon...
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