The Neighbour

ONE

🌷Anastasia.🌷

One month later...

"Ohhhh, Freddie! Don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop!"

I open my eyes and stare up at my ceiling, questioning how life got to this point.

"Baby, yes, yes, YES!"

NO, NO, NO!

I bury my face into my pillow and release a frustrated scream. After the month I've had—not to mention lugging a suitcase the size of my Nan up three flights of stairs—

I.

JUST.

WANT.

TO.

SLEEP.

"Ohhh, yeah! Right there, baby, Don't stop. Don't fucking stop!"

I press my face further into the pillow, desperately trying to absorb as much of the lavender laundry detergent as possible in the hopes it calms me. It doesn't. It only reminds me that I hate lavender and it's all that was left over from the previous tenants.

"Ugh!"

I'm suddenly exposed to the silence and just when I think my prayers have been answered, it starts again. Only this time, there's banging involved too. And judging by the brief interval between each one, I'd say whoever is on the other side of my new bedroom wall is getting fucked up against it.

"FREDDIEEEEE!"

I lose my shit.

Before I can rationalise my actions, my fist hammers against the wall, interrupting their fuck fest.

"Keep it down!"

The woman giggles and it only serves to infuriate me more. My therapist would tell me I'm overreacting. She'd say I was projecting my anger onto my surroundings as a coping mechanism. And she'd be right. That's exactly what I'm doing. I'm desperately trying to keep my rage contained, but it's becoming more and more difficult. I'm angry. Simple as that. And what makes it worse is that I'm not angry at the Universe. I'm not even angry at Josh. Surprisingly, I feel nothing but numbness when it comes to my ex. I'm only angry at one person.

Myself.

For letting it go on as long as it did. For accepting a fate far less than I deserve.

"SORRY!" yells the woman, though makes no attempt to rectify the situation.

If anything, she's louder.

I reach for my earphones and blast Taylor Swift, hoping some upbeat music will deter my anger. I do my best to deep breath through each ugly thought, but in the end it's pointless. I hate that I've become this. That the music I used to enjoy feels somehow tarnished now. I used to read romance novels, but they only serve only to piss me off. Even baking feels like a slog because Josh always did like my banana bread and I no longer like Josh, so why the hell would I ever bake again?

I hit pause on my playlist after twenty minutes, only to find they're still going at it. I'll be honest, if I wasn't so sleep deprived, I'd be impressed. This woman—whoever she is—has had well over three orgasms and Freddie—my new neighbour who I've not yet met—is showing no signs of slowing down. Dan, my landlord, told me I'd have no issues with a neighbour like him. Dan obviously doesn't know what his beloved Freddie gets up to on a Friday night.

Fuck Dan!

And fuck Freddie!

I'm saying fuck too much!