One day, a notice popped up in the Building Residents’ Group Chat: “Since I have a lot of relatives who often need a place to stay, I plan to buy up all the apartments on the third floor. Please prepare for your property transfer.” “However, I don’t have the funds to pay you all up front, so you can stay in my units by deducting your rent as payment towards the purchase, at $5,000 a month.” “Feel free to stay in my apartments, but you’ll need to clear out whenever my relatives visit! Leave everything in place — bedding, towels, cookware, the works. My guests will need to use those too.” This message came from Dale Winters, the tenant in 302. He saw I wouldn’t agree to his absurd demands, so he decided he’d just take over my apartment. Well, I wasn’t having it. I called in my 13-year-old little brother, Billy Langston, and my 80-year-old, spirited grandmother, Hattie Langston, for backup. Oh, and I brought out my official diagnosis report of Bipolar Disorder. The doorbell began ringing furiously. Peeking through the peephole, I saw a man and a woman standing on my doorstep with documents in hand, looking ready to barge right in. “Open up!” the woman demanded, “We’ve got the property transfer contract ready for you. Just sign and pay the $5 printing fee.” I had to laugh — they wanted my apartment for free and expected me to cover their printing costs? Bold didn’t even cover it! “Oh sure,” I said with thick sarcasm, “How about I toss in my smart TV and the air conditioner while I’m at it?” “Well, aren’t you a sensible girl,” said Dale, belly jiggling as he chuckled, like he was handing down a blessing. “I’ll let you stay a few more months if you sign.” Somehow, my apartment was already his, even though I hadn’t signed a thing. The woman’s patience was shorter. She kicked the door hard and shouted, “What’s with your attitude? Sign, or pay for my relatives to stay in a five-star hotel!” I’d never seen such shameless people in my life. I wasn’t about to take this lying down, so I called the Hollow Creek Police Department. While waiting, I shouted back through the door, “You want my apartment? Sure thing! Just name me in your will and wait ‘til I’m dead. Then it’ll be all yours.” “You piece of crap! Are you asking for it?” Dale snapped, and the two of them started pounding on my door. This was an old building, and the doorframe wasn’t sturdy. Watching the door shake, panic began clawing up my chest, making it hard to breathe. To avoid a direct confrontation, I quickly shoved some heavy furniture against the door. “What’s the plan here? You’re going to break into my place in broad daylight? I’ve already called the cops!” “Break in? This is my place, you little thief!” Dale yelled back, “You’re the one who should be arrested!” My breathing quickened, and my hands started trembling. It felt like there was a beast inside me, one I couldn’t hold back much longer. I stumbled to my room, my vision blurring, and found my pills. I swallowed one dry, the rough pill scraping down my throat. My diagnosis report slipped from the drawer, the words “Diagnosed Bipolar Disorder” in stark letters across the top.
The police arrived not long after. Seeing the officers, the woman put on a new face. Instead of showing an ounce of fear, she started to wail, “Officer, you have to help us! This woman’s trying to take over our property!” The officers looked stunned; they’d arrived while she and her husband were cursing and kicking my door. I stepped out and, with a bit of dramatic flair, told the officers exactly what had happened. They looked at Dale and Linda with clear irritation. “The owner hasn’t agreed to sell, so how do you figure it’s your property?” one officer asked, “And does it even sound reasonable that you’d get to ‘buy’ a place just by reducing rent?” Despite the officer’s pointed questions, Linda didn’t miss a beat. “Look, we’re negotiating! Neighbors should help each other out. I’m letting them stay here out of the goodness of my heart. What more do they want?” The officer’s eyebrow shot up — she was the epitome of “shameless.” He was nearly speechless. Since they hadn’t actually broken in yet, the officer just gave them a warning. “Listen, buying property requires mutual consent. This isn’t up to you. If you keep causing trouble, you’ll be joining us down at the station.” Glaring at me, Dale and Linda reluctantly stomped back to their apartment, defeated for now. I went back inside, collapsing on the bed and gulping down air. It’d been over five years since my last episode. I thought I’d finally gotten it under control. But after dealing with these two psychos, I really felt like picking up a carving knife and ending this nonsense. I hoped the police would scare them off for a few days. But the next morning, I was jolted awake by screaming and sobbing outside my door.
“I told you, if you want to buy my apartment, then pay me! But asking me to pay rent while you slowly ‘buy’ it? That’s just ridiculous!” It was Kate Dawson, my neighbor from across the hall. Kate had a rough life, forced into marriage early so her family could afford a dowry for her brother. She saved up for years to buy this little place and still had a ton of loans to pay off. How could she possibly agree to their absurd demands? “Ridiculous? Let me tell you what’s ridiculous!” Linda yelled. “Sign the papers! My family’s arriving tonight, so get your room cleared out. You can crash on the floor in the living room and cook and clean for my relatives while you’re at it!” Linda eyed Kate up and down, muttering, “What, twenty-five, twenty-six? Still single, huh? Well, my brother’s only forty. You marry him, pop out a son, and you’ll have a place to live forever!” “You!” Kate stammered, unable to stand up to the woman’s relentless bullying, tears welling up in her eyes. Seeing how easily Kate was rattled, the couple pressed forward, practically trying to push their way inside. “So you two want a trip to the station?” I barked, stepping between them and Kate. They stumbled back, and I put a protective arm around her. “You again, you little brat! Need a beating, do you?” Dale sneered, rolling up his sleeves as if to take a swing. Luckily, I’d come prepared. I reached behind me, pulling out a gleaming meat cleaver. The blade’s shine made them both step back in horror. “What’s your plan? Cut someone in broad daylight?” Linda stammered, her bravado melting away. “What’s your plan?” I replied. “Harassing a woman in broad daylight? Breaking into people’s homes?” They didn’t respond, only backed away, muttering threats before hurrying back to their apartment. I caught a glimpse of Charlie, their son, leering at me from their doorway, eyes full of resentment.
“Thank you… Without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done!” Kate Dawson sobbed, clearly shaken. I reassured her as I messaged Mr. Ron Collins. That’s when I learned the full story: the Winters had just barely bought the place, but they were behind on payments to the previous owner, who’d had trouble collecting the last bit of money. No wonder Mr. Collins had his hands tied. All he could do was try to keep an eye on them and hope things didn’t escalate. This couldn’t keep going on like this. I lay in bed, running through options. Moving? I’d invested too much money into this place, and with neighbors like them, selling would be tough. The police? So far, they hadn’t done anything major, so all the cops would give them was a warning. By the time they crossed the line, calling for help might be too late. I could feel my anger heating up. Not a good sign. I swallowed another pill and lay down. Drifting between sleep and waking, I was jarred awake by loud banging outside my door. Furious, I checked the peephole. Sure enough, there was Linda Winters, ushering in five or six relatives. Our one-bedroom apartments were tiny — nowhere near big enough for so many people. Just as I was wondering how they were all going to fit, I saw Dale Winters jamming a crowbar into the lock of the vacant unit across the hall, shoving the rest of his relatives inside. The owner was hardly ever home, which was probably why the Winters thought they could get away with it. I immediately notified Mr. Collins, who sighed in response. He couldn’t reach the owner, so without consent, he couldn’t report the break-in. I knew he just wanted to avoid a confrontation. Fine, I told myself. Just stay out of it unless they mess with me. I slipped on my headphones and tried to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night, hungry, so I took my headphones off. As I headed for the kitchen, I heard some rustling sounds outside my door. I figured it was a mouse or something small, but then the sound grew louder. It was mixed with heavy, weird breathing. I tiptoed to the peephole and took a look. My eyes felt violated. Charlie Winters — the chunky, foul-smelling teenager I’d seen earlier — was standing outside, peeing on my wall.
My fury hit a new high. Without a second thought, I threw open the door and gave him a brutal kick to his lower half. “AHHH!” He shrieked, rolling on the ground, and my rage turned to satisfaction. “Think you can mark your territory at my door? Next time, I’ll make sure you never try again!” Grabbing a pair of scissors from the kitchen, I dangled them just close enough to terrify him. Still clutching himself, Charlie scrambled back into his apartment, leaving a trail behind him. Holding my breath against the stench, I used a dustpan to scrape the mess back to their doorway. Just as I was about to close my door, Linda stormed up, yelling furiously. Luckily, I managed to close the door just as she lunged, hearing a loud thud followed by her yelping in pain. “You heartless monster! How dare you hurt my son! He’s my precious boy! If he’s injured, you couldn’t pay enough to cover it!” “Oh, please. ‘Precious’ seems like a stretch. Looks more like trash to me,” I muttered, listening through the door. “You lowlife! I’ll kill you!” “Look, keep pushing, and I’ll call the cops. And don’t forget, you just broke into someone else’s place today. One more thing, and it’s off to the station for you.” My warning must’ve hit home because she muttered some curses and slammed her door. I sprayed some perfume around my doorway to get rid of the smell. Even then, I couldn’t sleep, so I watched TV until I finally dozed off. At around six in the morning, the banging started again. They just wouldn’t stop.
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