We knew that the woman who banged on our back door one night a few weeks ago had been attacked. She told us. She showed us the bruises in her mouth. My husband handed her the phone and she spoke to the police. The police came to the front door and she left with them down to headquarters. She ID'd the guy and they arrested him the very next day.
It turns out that both of them are our immediate neighbors in two different apartment houses. I don't think either of them knew this when they met at the bus station in the big city 17 miles from home. She bummed a smoke and they hit it off and spent the day drinking and returned to his place.
He lived with his mother.
He took her into his bedroom and it all went bad, very bad. He tried to suffocate her and threatened to kill her. But her survival instincts kicked in. She fought him off and ran out the back door of the apartment house and down the dim cement stairs and out onto the street.
Rather than go a few steps to her apartment house and risk being seen by him, she turned and ran up the driveway to our back door, well lit yet hidden. She rang our doorbell and banged on our door while tucked in the vestibule. We could tell by the frantic ringing and banging that this was an emergency.
How frightening it must be to discover that you're living next door to your attacker, the guy who threatened your life especially now, while he is out on parole.
The attacker's landlord is a trickster as well and she juggles three or four names none of which are the truth so she can try to remain hidden from her responsibilities. The landlord was found by professionals hired to track her down. She was very angry about it. Her scam collapsed. Now the city knows where to send the citations.
Stories within stories. It's all a bit too much.
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