The neighbor (PART 2)

I look at my phone and see a long list of placed calls that I don’t remember making. Has someone else been using my phone?
The calls originated from my phone to Hannah’s parents and to the police.
That’s the only two contacts I have apparently called but I can’t remember it.
The white ceiling mocks me and the lightbulb attached to it starts to spin. Am I dreaming?
I hear the squeaky sounds of the apartment upstairs again and realize it’s not a dream.
The lightbulb moves because of what is happening at the psycho’s home! What is he doing there?!!
It’s driving me crazy and maybe that’s what he wants. He’s playing with me and slowly tries to turn me into a psycho like him. I’m sure of it.
He probably has a plan and his daily routine starts to make sense now. He’s going outside for me to follow him. All the weird sounds coming from the apartment and his walks around the block make sense and they are all part of his master plan.
But I won’t fall for it! No!!
What?! I'm overthinking this!
Stop.
I don’t even control my own thoughts and they just ramble on autopilot.
The sleepless nights, the pain in my ankle, and the disappearance of Hannah make me dizzy and confused.
I can’t tell what’s real anymore. But I’m sure Glen Moore is Hannah’s kidnapper.
À part of me knows he already killed her but I refuse to admit it just yet. I want to believe. I have to believe he didn’t or I don’t know what I’d do.
I want to believe this kind of revelation will turn me into a cold killer but I’m afraid it’d make me even more of a mess than I currently am.
I now realize I’m not very good at this investigating thing and I don’t have any more evidence than when I first started.
My gut and a couple of Hannah’s items in his apartment don’t prove anything.
I feel depressed and being aware of it deepens the emotions even more. I wish I could just be depressed and be ignorant about it. It would be simpler.
But I can’t be depressed. I have to get revenge and save Hannah.
I look outside the window and notice the first rays of sunshine.
Another sleepless night.

It’s time to take action. I can’t sit here, looking at the window, not doing anything but passively waiting for something to happen. Nothing’s going to happen if I don’t make it happen.
Looking at the window and watching people pass by makes me think and I don’t like what I think about when I think too much. My thoughts darken the more I explore them and I end up in a rabbit hole of angry and violent flow of emotions that turn me upside down and make me want to kill that psycho once and for all.
I wander in the apartment to become more active and try to switch off my brain but it doesn’t help. My mind runs at full speed and everything inside of it boils and makes me want to yell at the walls.
Enough is enough.
I go to the closet and pick a black outfit. Black jeans. Black sweater. Black socks. Black shoes.
On my way to the bathroom, I pass the mirror and glance at what looks like a burglar from a 90s movie. I ignore it and open the cupboard, grabbing bandages that I put over my right fist to improvise a boxing glove.
Once my masterpiece is done, I stop. Breathe in. Breathe out.
It’s go time.
I put the house’s key in my pocket, slam the door and walk towards the staircase.
We’re going back to the psycho’s apartment.
I find myself in his hallway again and a chill runs down my spine but I try to shake it off and keep walking, determined to get my answers.
This is it.
All the answers are behind that door.
I repress my angry knock and instead of pounding the door like I want to, I gently hit it three times firmly but without making too much noise. I don’t want to alert the other neighbors.
Even though it’s the middle of the day and most people are at work, I don’t want to take any chances to run into a noisy neighbor.
I hear his footsteps getting closer to my position and I feel the urge to run and hide but I force myself to stay and wait for him to open that damn door that has been starring back at me for too long now.
The sounds in the apartment stop and I can see his shadow under the door.
He takes too long to open the door.
“Hi!” I say with a big smile. He opens the door wider and smiles with a forced look.
I pick up all my strength and run my tight and full of bandages fist into the middle of his face as strongly as I can before he drops on the floor.
Did I kill him?
He doesn’t move and lays on his back in his apartment.
I quickly rush in, drag his body back and close the door before someone else shows up.

After tying him up to the chair, I wait for him to wake up, thinking about how I’m going to approach the situation.
Should I get right into torture or just ask questions first? How do I proceed? I’ve never done this before so I could use a little help.
I can’t really Google that. If the cops come later, I don’t want to have this in my browser history.
I’ll improvise and I’m sure he’ll crack quickly.
The chair at the corner of the living room is begging me to sit on it so I go over there and drag it back in front of the sleeping psycho who now became my hostage. This is going to be fun.
As I drag the chair across the room, I think that I should pick it up to avoid alerting the neighbor downstairs before I realize that it’s me and that I’m here.
“I don’t mind the noise,” I say to myself chuckling.
I sit in front of him and look at his face.
I’ve never been so close to him and able to examine every part of his disgusting head. His hair is greasy and curly as well as thin. He’s halfway to bald and covers part of it with repulsing strings he probably calls hair.
I want to slap him across the face to wake him up but I don’t even want to touch him. He disgusts me.
It could be good to wear gloves so I don’t put fingerprints everywhere. I grab the latex gloves I put earlier in my pocket and walk around his apartment, looking for clues. I have time now and don’t have to rush on his account.
It’s good not to feel rushed and pressured.
Hannah’s scarf is gone and I can’t find it anywhere in the apartment.
I call her but she doesn’t respond. I’m hoping to hear scratches or her voice but he must have moved her since the last time I was here.
I’m pissed and angry at myself. I should not have waited that long to come back.
Where is she? What did he do to her?
I should be asking him these questions.
My nerves are in a pinch and I walk angrily towards him.
I stop and look one last time at his sleeping face before thinking about waking him.
But I want him to be scared when he wakes up. I’m not going to make it easy for him so I move behind him. I don’t want him to see me at first.
It’s time.
I poke him with my finger hard enough for him to awake. He groans and tries to move.
Hello psycho.
He jiggles to get himself free from the ropes.
Not a chance. I tied these over and over so you won’t get out of these unless I let you out, you son of a bitch.
“Wakey wakey” I murmur while I keep poking my finger at his greasy head.
He realizes what’s happening and moves harder now. He’s stressing and I can’t see his eyes but I’m sure he’s terrified by the muffled sounds he makes through the tape I put over his disgusting dry mouth.
I’m enjoying this so much more than I thought I would. Rattling the psycho’s cage fills me with joy but I must not forget why I’m here.
“Where is she?” As I ask my question, I instantly regret it. I should have waited a little bit longer before getting into it. Longer foreplays are always a good way to go and I should have teased him more before hitting him with the tough questions.
But it’s done now so I’m going for it. Too late to back down.
“Wheeeeeere is sheeeee?” I’m singing a little to provoke him and scare him as I rush my fingers over his head, making a mess of his leftover hair.
He jiggles more and he even lets out a high pitch sound from the tape.
It’s working. The psycho’s cage is rattled.
I move in front of him and his eyes widened. He looks confused, surprised, and then briefly relieved. I don’t understand that last part.
I take out my knife to set him back on the scary path and he opens his eyes even wider.
As I slowly approach my knife to his left cheek, he stands straight on the chair and tries to lean back to avoid the touch of the knife.
“I’m gonna remove the tape now.” I don’t know if it’s a good idea. If he yells, I’m dead.
“Or maybe I won’t!” And I put the tip of my knife into his cheek, letting out a single tear of blood.
He swallows nervously and I see the terror in his eyes.
Now I have him exactly where I want to.
“We’re gonna play a little game. I’ll ask you simple Yes or No questions so you won’t have to talk, just nod. And if I don’t like your answer, I’ll cut you!” He rapidly and nervously nod a thousand times.
“Let’s start with a simple one to help you.” He keeps jiggling and I don’t know if I like it or not. I want him scared but I also want him focused.
“Stop jiggling or I’ll cut you even faster!” He instantly freezes.
“Good. First question: Do you know who I am?”
He nods a bunch of times.
We’re on the right track. It might not take as long as I had imagined.
“Do you know who my girlfriend is?” He quickly looks around the room as to think about his answer, then pauses for a second before nodding again.
“Goooood. And what have you done to HER?!!” He wiggles on the chair and makes squeaky noises in horror. He looks like he has just seen a monster and has a complete nervous breakdown, tiptoing with the feet of the chair, balancing from side to side.
“Shut up! Shut your fucking trap you psycho scum!” He freezes and doesn’t make another sound.
Then I laugh hysterically. It just hit me. I’m laughing uncontrollably - probably nervous from the whole situation.
I keep laughing while he stares at me.
“My bad! That wasn’t a Yes or No question! Good catch!”.

This Yes or No thing is harder than it looks. Sometimes you just want to get your answer right away and I’m itching to remove the tape from his mouth but I refrain myself from doing so. Alerting the other neighbors, or worst, the police, would shorten my time with him and I want to make it count. I need answers and if we stay quiet I’ll have all the time I need with him.
I walk around the chair, making him even more nervous. I like that. I want that psycho to suffer and piss his fucking pants!
But I have to think about my questions carefully. I don’t want to like an amateur. I’ve come too far.
I need to know where Hannah is. Process of elimination.
I sit back in front of him and stare at his googly eyes for a second. He looks scared and confused and I can’t block images of Hannah from showing up in my mind - what he has done to her. He probably did the same thing.
I see her tied to the same chair. I see him walking around like I just did. He went through the same process with the love of my life and I want to kill him for it. I want to kill him right now!
But I have to stay strong and give him mercy for another hour or so while I get my answers. He doesn’t deserve it though.
She’s screaming and afraid. I see her yelling, calling for me but I never came and now she might be barely breathing somewhere, or worst, dead.
She’s shivering and crying, begging for him to stop. But he keeps going.
I shake these images from my mind. I too must keep going. For her. For Hannah.

“Is she here?” He dozed off and my question turns him back into focus. He startles and looks at me. Thinking about what I just asked him. It looks like he wants me to repeat the question but I don’t. I wait for him to think that I’ll cut him soon. He makes some squeaky noises again, like a squirrel ran over by a car, waiting for death by the side of the road.
I move closer to him with the tip of my knife poking his chest.
“Is. She. Here?!” That should be a simple enough question and I already know the answer but I don’t want him to get off on a technicality so I side on the side of caution to rule that out.
I don’t want to picture it but it’s too late. I imagine him cutting her into pieces and putting her organs into multiple jars across his apartment. It pisses me off and I shake him on the chair.
“Tell me tell me tell me tell me TELL ME!” He shakes his head vigorously for a good 10 seconds without making a sound.
“Okay. Is she somewhere in the building?” He looks at me with puppy eyes and frowns his eyebrows. Is that a yes?
“Is that a yes?” He shakes his head quickly and suddenly stops. He makes his dog eyes again and emits a sound. What does that mean? His head tries to say yes and no at the same time.
It makes me angry and he sees it but can’t seem to stop. The angrier I get, the more he sees it and the more movements his head makes.
“WHAT IS THAT?!” I’m done. I grab my knife.
“I told you: Yes. Or.” The knife runs down his chest, cutting him and making blood drip from the chair to the floor. “No.”
Maybe I should have put some towels on the floor first. It’s gonna get messy.

The pool of blood under the chair gets bigger by the minute and I suddenly realize that I don’t have an infinite amount of time with this psycho. My time with him is counted. Maybe cutting him wasn’t the best idea. I don’t know. I’m new at this. If you have any thoughts, feel free to pitch in.
He looks very sleepy and I try to keep him awake but my slaps are now useless.
I didn’t get the answers I needed and I’m gonna get stuck with a dead body in my arms - a body that I have no idea what to do with.
The worst is that I can’t leave him here because the blood will go through the floor at some point and I don’t want it to poise my immaculate ceiling.
“Wake up!” I slap him as hard as I can. But I have to remember to keep it quiet. It’s almost 5 pm and people will start to come back from work and into the building.
He doesn’t respond.
Did I take it too far?
He deserved it. He’s a psychopath and a killer.
It hits me. I’m now one too - at least for the killer part.
I wanted revenge and I hadn’t planned for what did just happened.
The flashes of Hannah’s screaming at me and of her corpse laying in a pool of blood intensified over the last hour.
I wasn’t able to get the answers I needed to save her and I feel that she’s dead because of it.
The hopes I had of finding her alive when all this started eventually evaporated into shame for not being able to protect her.
I hate that this psychopath gave me even more work to do now that he’s dead and that I have to get rid of his disgusting body.
How are you supposed to get rid of a body? Dump it into a river? Throw it in a public thrash? Bury it? But then I have to dig a hole…
This motherfucker is definitely going to piss me off until the very end.

The sun almost left entirely for the day and I keep looking at him, sitting a few feet away, staring at his lifeless body.
He’s not moving but he doesn’t seem dead. It just looks like he’s sleeping.
I’m running out of time and now I’m obligated to deal with this before it starts to smell. How long does it take before a body starts to smell? I don’t know. And I’m not sure if I really want to know.
I walk behind him to untie his hands. He won’t need the ropes no more.
I take the tape off of his mouth in a fast motion. He gasps. He’s not dead. His eyes blink rapidly as if trying to communicate a message.
He breathes heavily and I don’t know what to do. Should I tape him again? What if he yells?
I have to kill him now. There is no other way around it.
“Where is she?! Where is she?! Where is Hannah?!!” I shake him to try to get an answer before he’s gone for good.
“I…do…” I realize it is the first time I hear his voice since we’ve been doing this little dance.
Nothing.
He’s dead for good this time.
His face falls and his body follows, heading straight to the pool of blood underneath the chair. He hits it like a goldfish out of its aquarium that finally goes back to the water it so desperately needs to survive.
There is blood everywhere. He made a mess. What an asshole.
This psycho is fucking with me until the end. Now I have to clean all this.

I don’t know what to do with him. What if I just leave him here?
Would that be that terrible?
He’ll smell and people will call the cops but as long as I don’t leave any prints I should be fine.
I don’t want to take any chances though. It’s too risky.
Maybe I can get some acid and melt him into a vat. But then I’ll have a big vat of acid to get rid of. You can’t just dump that into the sink.
I have no clue what to do next and I stay seated in front of his body. I’m frozen and can’t move. A flow of ideas rushes through my mind but none of them make the final cut. That sucks.
I don’t like to be stuck! Fuck! What should I do?!
Putting him in the tub will only delay the inevitable.
What if I set the place on fire?
I’ll burn my apartment too. That’s dumb. Think!
What if I roll his body into the carpet and then drop it from the balcony to get it back?
People will see it. That’s stupid! Fuck! I hate it! This fucking psycho is going to get me caught.
I can’t let him win.
The vat of acid seems like the best idea I’ve had so far.
Wait! What if I put him into a trash can.
It’ll make too much noise.
Okay. Let’s go for the acid thing.

After going to a few different stores to buy a big container to fit him and enough acid, I’m back to my thinking place, standing in front of him.
I got a medium-sized container but it’ll dissolve him quickly and then he’ll be able to fit in there perfectly.
He’s heavy and it takes me a while to put him face down in the plastic container.
After carefully removing the lid, I start pouring the magical liquid onto the psycho and watch himself melt and turn into a gooey paste.
I’m surprised at how well it works. It’s very useful and I like how easy it is to do it.
It’s late and I’m tired so I let him stew in there and go back home to get some well-deserved sleep. It’s been a long day.
I feel better and relieved now that he’s gone because I know he won’t hurt anybody else. But I’m still sad about Hannah. I’m not sure if I should be grieving but I’m not there yet. I don’t feel like she’s really gone. A part of her is still around me and I can tell that she’s still with me.
All this work made me hungry and I open the cupboards looking for snacks. A few jars of floating stuff, no…I want sugar. I reach deep for an opened packet of biscuits. That’s the good stuff.
I go back to my bed and eat the snacks I just found before falling asleep. I feel happy for the first time in a long time.

The sun is shining and the birds are singing. This morning has a lot to offer and I’m optimistic regarding the outcome of my day.
I walk around the apartment, pretending to do normal things. Sometimes, I feel like people are watching me and I’m a guest in a tv show. I don’t look around for cameras and instead focus on my activities. I’m careful not to do anything embarrassing. If only they knew about the psycho floating in the acid bar upstairs. I laugh out loud at the idea. Not laughing at the psycho. Laughing at the idea that I’m on a tv show and that they think they’re watching a guy doing normal things when he killed someone just above the living room.
The idea that the psycho’s gone for good is also pleasing and I smile like a dad would smile at his kids playing outside in the fields. He’d be happy for them but also afraid about the upcoming changes and unexpected events that could occur.

I want to go up there badly and see what’s left of him. Probably not much. I’m so excited!
I’m still thinking about the tv show idea and I’m pretending to open the fridge to see that milk is missing.
“I’ll go get some milk” I’m just playing along at this point, I don’t know why. Don’t ask me.
Before grabbing the keys, I put on a coat and leave my fantasy reality tv.

No one saw me between the time I left my place and the time it took me to get to the psycho’s door.
I jiggle his keychain, trying to find the right one but I’m not used to this set of keys yet. I find the right one and finally enter.

He’s gone. The living room is empty and the vat of acid with it.
What the fuck?!
I rush to the middle of the room and see a hole in the floor.
Holy shit! The acid went through and melted everything!
I see my apartment and my bed below. I’m lying in the bed, sleeping, and there’s a hole in my stomach.
I suddenly open my eyes and am now staring at myself. The other me screams and I fall back from the surprise. A hand touches my shoulder and I startle before quickly turning. It’s Hannah. She’s scratching the floor with her bloody fingers and missing nails that are stuck in the wooden floor. She keeps scratching no matter how much I yell at her.
Then nothing. Blackness.
I don’t see anything but I can still hear her fingers scratching the surface and I feel like she’s scratching underneath my skin, begging to get out. She’s almost there but can’t seem to burst the skin.
I open my eyes again before looking at my old friend, the immaculate ceiling.
It was just a bad dream.

The liquid in the vat doesn’t indicate that a full-body was left here yesterday. There’s nothing left of the psycho. That’s a good thing.
The only thing left to do is to get rid of the liquid.
Is there a way to safely throw acid? Probably.
Is there a way to safely throw acid without someone noticing? That’s a more complicated question to answer. I’m afraid someone will find out what I’ve been doing here.
But aren’t people busy with their lives and too busy to notice other people? I’m counting on it.
I could just throw the acid in a river or empty it on the grass somewhere. It’s a liquid and it’ll disappear quickly. The only thing I have to do is to get rid of it and not leave it like that in the container. Otherwise, it could come back to me.
Once it’s gone in the wild, the evidence will be gone.
What if I pour it down the shower drain?
Will it melt the shower?
I don’t want to take any chances. And I don’t want to Google that and have it in my browser history.
Who knows who can see that? Right?

Fuck it! I’ll just throw a few scoops of acid by the window without people noticing and everything will be gone in a few hours or less.
It’s raining outside so it’s the perfect setup. Not a lot of people stay outside when the weather is bad and the neighbors won’t notice more liquid coming down from the sky.
Let’s do this!

I grab a small plastic container while wearing gloves and submerge it into the acid, scooping what is worth a few glasses of the old psycho before throwing it outside.
It’s working! I can’t believe it’s working.
It’s gonna take forever to scoop it all out but at least it’s working.
I repeat the action for a while and the vat’s level slowly lowers. I’m getting there.
Near the end, it’s getting harder and harder to scoop the bottom of the barrel and I simply grab the entire thing and empty the remains by the window.
I’m done!
The evidence is outside, mixing itself with the grass.
All that’s left is the barrel.
It is big and blue and I can’t just throw it in the trash.
At least it’s not heavy now that it’s empty so I lift it and go back to my apartment to keep it safe.
I don’t have to go back upstairs. I’m done with the psycho. He won’t hurt anybody else. I can be proud.
I don’t feel proud though. Whatever.

Sleep eludes me and I keep seeing Hannah everywhere. It feels like a bad recurring nightmare that I’ve been having repeatedly for a while without consciously remembering. I can’t tell if it’s been 2 months or 2 years and it bugs me.
Her face appears every time I close my eyes and she taunts me.
I thought it would fade after killing the psycho but it’s been a week and she still assaults me in my dreams.
What more do you want from me?!
I’ve done everything I could, Hannah. I don’t know what else you expect of me.
I’m scared of looking in the mirror because she’s lingering behind me when I stand up after brushing my teeth in the sink. She appears from nowhere and I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
I need to go for a walk.
While reaching in the bowl for my keys, I notice a strange silver key that I haven’t seen before.
It is attached to the keychain for the apartment upstairs. I kept a spare after the incident with the psycho. Maybe I should get rid of it before it turns evidence in a murder trial - not that anyone cares about that asshole’s life.
The name of a storage room is attached to the mysterious silver key and I wonder if it’s been there the whole time.
It’s not far from here and only a few minutes' walk from the building. Let’s go.
On the way, I can’t help but wonder what I’ll find in that storage room. Old furniture, people, piles of newspapers. The list goes on. There could be anything in there and that wouldn’t surprise me. This psycho has nothing left for me that would shake my boots.

I arrive there and walk to the end of the main hall, following the lack of instructions to find the number matching the one on the key.
Here I am. Standing in front of a metallic garage door.
I pause and wonder if the contents of the room will jump on my face once I open it.
I summon the courage to do it and slide the door open.
There’s nothing.
It’s empty.
What the fuck?!
It’s a disappointment. A big one.
I expected more from this guy.
The room is empty but I take a flashlight out of my pocket to inspect the walls more closely.
Nothing.
The rope that I had been holding between my thumb and index to prevent the door from closing slips and the metallic wall slams shut behind me with a loud noise.
I turn and it’s only me with my flashlight in this tiny room.
I wonder how it would feel for someone to be stuck in here. How long would it take for her to run out of oxygen? How long would it take before she’d lose her mind?
I approach the door and notice something. I slowly walk towards it and squint my eyes. The flashlight hits the spot and the shadow of the surface lets me understand.
Scratches on the surface of the door.
It’s her.
I see her scratching the door as I stare at the marks she left on the metal. I keep hearing the enraging sound of the nails sliding and grinding the surface.
How could she…
I’m out of breath and I need to get out.
I pull the rope and open the door. The sunlight and fresh air hit me and pull me out of this nightmare I’ve been living.
But I still hear the scratches. They haven’t stopped since it all began.
I walk back home while looking at the ground the entire way.
I can’t believe she was there the entire time. I was so close and yet so far.
I wish I could have done something.

I close the door of the apartment behind me. I’m finally home. I need a drink.
I rush to the kitchen and look in the cupboard. I navigate around various jars for alcohol before one of them makes eye contact with me.
Her eyes.
“Hello, darling.”