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The chilly autumn wind howled outside of Percy’s tiny apartment. She’d forgotten to close the window. The night’s coolness made her shiver in her sleep, but it was fine — she could manage that minor inconvenience. Percy just sank deeper into the warm softness of her fluffy blue blanket and went on sleeping.
Percy was so exhausted with her studies that she intended to sleep even through the Apocalypse if it happened to take place that exact night. She was just a sleep-deprived student who struggled through her daily routine hoping to survive — and now she got a chance to sleep as much as she needed. God forbid, she deserved it. She was such a good girl, after all — making herself go study even when the only thing she wanted was to lock herself in the apartment and pretend the outside world didn’t exist, making herself do homework so she wouldn’t fall behind, making home-made food so she’d eat well and her mother’d be proud.
That autumn was weirdly challenging to survive. Percy never felt so weary, so easily exhaustible ever in her life, even at the harder parts of it. She didn’t like the change.
She pretended it was fine when talking to Sally. She joked carelessly around her friends, and her cheerful smile didn’t let them see through. She admitted to Luke that it was kinda concerning. Not scary yet, and still…
Luke asked her to be gentler to herself, to eat well, at least try not to skip her meals plainly forgetting her needs, to sleep longer. To choose herself and her own well-being over studies or whatever shit she considered worthy of killing herself over. Luke checked on her, talked to her as much as she could manage with her own studies stealing her time — as much as Percy herself allowed, sometimes needing some quiet time in, undisturbed, alone.
Luke’s tender care made that autumn a bit easier to go through. Percy was so glad she had Luke in her life.
So, Percy slept, taking her rightful no-matter-how-many hours of rest. And suddenly she woke up, alerted, her drowsy mind barely processing what’s going on.
And then she got it. It was the knock on the door.
Percy took her phone to check the time, Luke’s photo at her wallpaper comforting and dearly familiar as always. It was 3 am. And someone was knocking. Weird.
She felt so stupid afterwards, but somehow her first guess was that there were neighbour kids fooling around, knocking at the random doors. There were plenty of kids in the house.
The knock repeated.
It didn’t occur to her that it was too late for kids to be up and unsupervised.
She, irritated with her peaceful sleep having been disturbed, got up and came to the front door.
The knock repeated.
“Who’s that? Go away!” Percy exclaimed, loud and pissed enough to be clearly heard through the door. She sounded way more imposing than she felt, than she actually was. All bark, no bite. And it’s not like she often had to do either, really.
“Hello, sunshine.” She heard the soft murmur, then a knock again. “I know you’re here. I know you live alone.”
Percy stumbled, shocked, as she took the step back from the closed door. The voice was male. Unfamiliar. And — it wasn’t hard to detect — drunk.
Dread crept up her spine, her heartbeat increasing, the sudden rush of blood almost making her sway.
The man was right. She was alone. So clearly helplessly alone.
“Talk to me, girl.” The man continued, sounding tranquil, soothing. “I’m just your neighbour. You know me.”
Percy did not, in fact, know him. Out of her neighbours, she talked only to female ones. They were way more efficient at handling whatever domestic issues needed to be handled, and, well, it’s not like Percy trusted unfamiliar men that much. It’s not like men are untrustworthy — it’s more like you never know for sure if they are trustworthy or not. Better safe than sorry, Percy concluded — and avoided her male neighbours entirely.
Anyway, so far, her place of living was relatively safe. There used to be some drunk fights in another apartment but they ceased a year ago. Only recently Percy discovered that there used to live a drug-addict, and that he died of overdose at a nearby house’s hall. Her house became calm and quiet since then, and she grew used to it.
Too soon, as it turned out.
“Let’s go out,” The man murmured softly. He sounded peaceful. Percy, afraid to breathe, waited for him to turn violent. She could sense it coming. “Let’s go for a walk. Please, sweetheart. You know me. Just good old me. We’ll have fun together.”
He knocked again. Percy moved away from the door, hiding in the shadows of her apartment, her legs barely responding. Pure terror seized her whole, making her limbs numb, her grasp weak, leaving her dizzy and shaking.
Maybe he’d leave, she thought. At the same time the man pulled the door handle, attempting to open the door. It was locked. Thank God, it was locked.
He tried again, and again, and again. Percy stood there, in her pyjamas, frozen, her mind blank. She didn’t understand what was happening. Why it was happening. Why it was happening to her.
Ridiculous. She only tried to get her sleep. How the fuck her night turned into this?
It wasn’t really happening, was it? It’s impossible. It must be some kind of joke.
The man called her again in the same drunk murmur — Percy didn’t distinguish his words. Then knocked again, calmly.
Then he hit, the metal clash so loud that Percy briefly thought he broke down the damn door. Her own horror almost made her throw up. There was only that damn door separating her from that drunkard. If it broke down, Percy’d be done for.
Percy imagined all too well what’d happen to a lonely 20-years-old like her in that case. It… it wasn’t how she wanted her night to end.
Percy thought that she just wanted to rest and barely suppressed her tears.
She took her phone, her arms violently shaking. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t bad enough to involve the cops.
But maybe… just maybe… the door wouldn’t withstand the man’s hitting. Or he’d bring whatever shit he needed to break the lock completely. And then Percy’d get raped, and murdered, and raped again. Her mother’d be devastated, and Luke not much better.
Or Percy’s exaggerating. She tended to be dramatic from time to time, her friends never grew tired of pinpointing it. Maybe it was–
The man hit the door again. It sounded like he threw all his body weight at the doorframe and slid down the wall. Percy’s fingers slid, and she found herself calling 911.
The calm female voice at the other end of the line was a relief. It made her feel a tiny bit less alone.
Percy’s own voice more resembled a chocked squeak of a dying animal when she managed to say her address. Barely audible, barely distinguishable — but the woman got her words without any trouble. Percy guessed she wasn’t the first scared girl on the line and won’t be the last. It was, quite frankly, terrifying to think about.
Percy didn’t know if the man could hear her calling and she didn’t desire to find out. She caught any sound from the night’s stillness all around her aiming to pinpoint any change, hoping to brace herself if the man lost his shit entirely. Nothing changed. The same knocks, the same soft murmur, the same door handle pulling.
Percy might survive. She just needed to wait for the police to arrive.
So, she waited.
Five minutes. Percy turned down the brightness of her phonescreen to spare her eyes. They’d hurt so much afterwards, she could already feel it.
Seven minutes. Percy closed her eyes letting them rest for a short while, enjoying the silence. Then the man hit the door again, and Percy shuddered, her eyes wide open, scared and fragile and awake.
Ten minutes. Every timecheck let her see Luke’s photo. So dear, so gorgeous, so soothingly familiar, her photo alone, all that charismatic charm and wicked beauty giving a tiny bit of comfort to Percy’s hurting eyes and soul. Nothing compared to the real presence, but Percy wasn’t picky and appreciated what she had.
Eleven minutes. Percy heard the man walk down the hall. Percy stared at Luke’s mischievous smirk, the cheerful glint in her eyes, sly yet overwhelmingly warm, and whimpered at the sudden strike of need to have her beloved by her side. Luke was strong with a fierce lanky strength of a stray cat winning every fight it got into so it’d protect itself and the ones it cared about. Luke wasn’t that far from a stray cat herself. Now her life was way better, safer than it used to be, but she still kept her claws sharp in case she needed them once again — old habits die hard and all that. Luke didn’t like going into details about her past, and Percy didn’t push her.
Percy just was there for Luke when she needed it, and Luke did the same for her.
Percy thought how badly she wanted Luke here right now, and cried. It wasn’t even that loud, and yet it was heard. The man moved back to her door and pulled the handle with doubled urgency. Her tears stuck in her throat, frozen with terror, making her choke on her own sob.
Percy was so, so tired.
She braced herself and waited for the police in some kind of trance. Knocking and pulling and murmuring reached her weary mind as if through thick cotton wool.
Eighteen minutes. The man left again walking down the hall. The police called her asking for the front door code.
Percy replied eagerly and anxiously, mentally praying she wasn’t needed outside. They didn’t ask her to come out, didn’t really ask her anything.
Then there was lots of walking around the hall. Up and down, up and down. She didn’t know who the man was and where he lived so she was plainly useless for the search. She listened to the footsteps, and then — silence. Just silence.
The night’s still darkness coating her all over felt uneasily thick, rotten.
Percy never heard the police talking in the hall. If they found anybody, they’d at least say something to them, wouldn’t they?
So, Percy knew better than to return to sleep. She came up with a plan. If the man returned, she’d call the police and make them return. If the police were useless, she’d call Luke.
Or maybe she’d be fine on her own, and she didn’t need to wake her girlfriend up in the dead of night just because she was scared. Luke couldn’t give up all her life and come to comfort Percy every time Percy whined like a love-starved child. Luke was as much exhausted as Percy was, she needed her rightful rest too. Asking it of her while Percy could manage on her own was quite selfish.
But… Percy wasn’t sure how long she’d manage on her own. How long her psyche’d withstand the sheer all-consuming terror for her safety and life. There’s somewhere a line that separates what Percy can handle and what she can’t, and it’s better not get crossed.
Who knows how much damage a night like that can make. Considering that Percy’s already at her lower, weak and numb this autumn. Luke’d be devastated to learn that she could save Percy from that damage but didn’t get a chance because Percy didn’t call her.
And Luke… every time Percy struggled and Luke could do nothing to help, she got that kicked-puppy sort of look. She did her best to hide it behind false nonchalance but Percy was perceptive enough to see through.
Hurting Luke made Percy want to die. If she could avoid it, she’d do her best.
She just had to figure out what that “best” was.
Luke asked her to be kinder to herself. She never asked Percy to be kinder to her. It didn’t mean it was okay to wake Luke up depriving her of sleep, to make her risk getting into a fight as if Luke didn’t fight enough in her life. And yet… Percy needed her.
Percy hated herself for it.
Of course, the man returned. It wasn’t even that long since the police left. In the meantime, Percy considered getting up to brush her hair and teeth to look a little less awful when she’d eventually have to talk to someone. She couldn’t find the energy to move so stayed as she was.
The man was murmuring, sounding twice as drunk as before. Percy distinguished random words like “girl” and “promise” and “answer me” and got nothing from it except for two facts: the man was out of his mind and horrendously stupid. The revelation was nothing unexpected, so it didn’t help her much.
She called. The police promised to return and check.
Knocks, pulling, hits, murmur. Repeat again. And again, and again, and again. Percy waited obediently at first. Then she started calling every time the man hit the door — and got no reply.
After an hour, she managed to contact the same female 911 operator.
“Oh, the police didn’t come yet?” The operator asked with genuine surprise in her voice. Percy could’ve laughed hysterically if she wasn’t so damn terrified to produce any sounds. The man was whining drunkenly and hitting her door in the background. “I’ll repeat the request.”
Percy was sick of expecting the door to break down but couldn’t help doing it over and over again with every single hit. It lasted long enough so she could get used to it, but she never did, always praying the previous hit was the last.
Suddenly a new sound appeared. Percy froze, shaken by a fresh wave of pure terror, motionless, trying to detect what the fuck that was. It… it sounded like paper. Like paper brushed along the doorframe.
Percy’s mind drew dozens of graphic images of a drunkard breaking her lock with origami. She had to purposefully remind herself how ridiculous the idea was.
The paper brushing drove her up the wall. Combined with the door hitting and the police ignoring her again, it was enough to turn Percy insane.
She heard something fall on her floor with a soft bump. She walked to look, quieter than the night’s shadows sliding across the room.
There was a note on the floor. That man pushed the note through her doorframe.
Percy didn’t pick it up. She went back, deeper in the room. One of her cautious steps betrayed her, and the floor creaked.
She froze. The man froze too. And then knocked. And then hit.
“Answer me,” he said, voice still drunkenly soft, yet demanding. “I’m waiting. Is it that damn hard? I’m not asking much, just reply. Girl, c’mon.”
Percy knew better than to talk to him. No way he’d leave as soon as he succeeded at getting her attention. He’d set his claws in her and, feeding on her responses, drain life out of her until nothing was left.
A reply would’ve been enough for a normal human being. Whatever that being behind her doors was, it wasn’t normal. A normal one would’ve never knocked for hours at the lonely girl’s front door, no matter drunk or sober. They weren’t even fucking acquainted.
“Answer me,” he repeated, his soft voice a quiet threat. “We either solve this issue in a good way, and I marry a girl, or we do it the hard way. I’ll call the police to protect my rights.”
Police? Rights?! Marry?! Percy would’ve burst out laughing — and laughed till she suffocated — if she wasn’t so scared of crying through her laughter. Her breakdown definitely won’t help her.
She couldn’t help giggling, though. She giggled and thought, damn that’s absolutely ridiculous, his words don’t even make sense, when she took her phone.
A couple of tears fell at the phonescreen when she stared at Luke’s phone number, anxious and hesitant. Her giggles got stuck in her throat.
Maybe she could handle it.
The man demanded whatever he wanted again. Then hit the door making the handle clash pathetically. Then walked away angrily.
Percy’d throw up if he returned again. He’d return again. Percy wouldn’t handle it.
Her finger slid, her whole body shaking non-stop, and she called Luke.
It took Luke five seconds to pick up the phone.
“Percy?” she asked, sleepy and confused, and Percy sobbed at the sound of her voice. That definitely caught Luke’s attention. “Percy? Hey, baby, you ‘kay?”
The caring concern in her smooth pleasant voice was almost enough to break Percy down. Percy took a shuddered breath to brace herself.
“Th- th- d-drunk man, he, ots-de,” she stammered and imagined hitting herself for it. It wasn’t that hard of a task to explain herself properly, to produce sentences with at least a parody of coherence.
She heard Luke get up hastily. She heard rustle and clatter and soft cursing and couldn’t make sense of it.
“What did he do?” Luke asked, fully awake, her voice collected and clear. Not quite dry, but Percy sensed she was hiding her emotions.
Percy was shocked Luke actually got her words and barely suppressed a grateful whine.
“I’ll come in twenty minutes,” Luke added calmly. Percy heard her running down the stairs in soft smooth steps and couldn’t help finding solace in Luke’s ever-present effortless grace. “Stay with me, please.”
Percy mumbled her agreement. She’d rather cut off her arm than put the phone down and deprive herself of Luke’s voice, of her care and presence.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Luke asked again, already driving, and Percy only now understood that she forgot to answer.
“A drunk neighbour,” she replied, doing her damn best to speak intelligibly. “I don’t know him. Asked me out. Knocked. Tried to enter. Hit the door. Left notes. Now he’s away but he always returns.”
“How long?”
“Three hours.”
“Since three a.m.?” Percy didn’t reply, and Luke didn’t demand it from her. She never demanded anything.
Percy listened attentively enough to catch Luke taking a breath at the other end of the line.
“Did you call the police?”
“They came, found nothing, left and now refuse to come again,” Percy murmured.
She could hear Luke’s rage through her forced silence. She could sense her shut herself down to keep her rage at bay.
“Useless… trash…” Luke murmured eventually, and that was all that she allowed herself.
Percy heard footsteps again and whispered. “He’s back.”
Luke made a sound resembling a hiss, somewhere between cat-like and diabolical. Percy would’ve considered it hot if all her attention wasn’t focused at the front door.
Knocks, door handle pulling, soft demanding murmur. Percy was so tired.
“Luke,” she whined before she could make herself shut up.
“Hold on a bit, sweetheart, I’m driving along your street.”
Percy knew Luke arrived way faster than she would without exceeding the speed limit. Gratitude swelled up in her heart, overwhelmingly warm.
“I’m so sorry to ask it of you, my love,” Luke said calmly, sorrowfully. “But I’ll need you to distract him while I get to him. I don’t need him to hide away while I get up the stairs. Just half a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” Percy mumbled.
“My brave girl,” Luke replied quietly, her smooth voice full of undeniable affection — and sincerity as if she really believed what she said. “I’m at your door with the key. Now, dear.”
Percy, her phone in the pocket of her sweatpants, strived towards the door, light as shadow, deliberately audible so the man’d sense her presence. The door handle was stirring up and down as he frantically pulled it.
She put her arm at her end of the handle and held it in place, her grasp pure steel.
“What do you even want me to reply?!” She screamed, her exhaustion and numbness and terror fueling her fury. “You made my night a living hell, you perverted witless drunkard!! Fuck off!!!”
“How dare you–” he slurred numbly.
“How dare I?!” Percy shrieked. She didn’t even know she could sound like that. The audacity was enough to make her suffocate with animalistic wrath. She’d strangle him if the door were open. It was like three quarters of her died of horror while the fourth one lusted for blood. “Piece of shit!! How dare you–”
There was a dull thud, and then a sound of a body falling, sliding down the door. Then some manhandling as Luke moved the dead weight away from the passage, cursing under her breath. Three dull thuds of kicking something soft.
Some part of Percy was actually sorry she didn’t get the chance to speak her mind. Most of her being shook from head to toes, her mind repeating numbly it’s over, it’s over, it’s over.
Luke called her in the gentlest voice Percy’d heard from her in a while. Percy unlocked the door as fast as she could with her hands slack and shaking.
The door creak, the rustle of falling paper, the flash of Luke crossing the doorframe — and Percy found herself sobbing hysterically in her girlfriend’s arms, loud and pathetic and ugly. Luke immediately took her in her arms, gently pressed to her chest as if Percy was the most precious thing in the entire world, and kept her safe and warm when she cried her heart out.
Percy had no idea how long she cried. Only when she was too drained out to carry on, having no tears left, and Luke practically holding a dead weight in her arms, Percy registered the gruff snoring coming from the hall. That asshole, knocked out by Luke, managed to fall asleep.
Percy knew it was unlikely, but she hoped he would never wake up.
All that time, Luke was petting her softly, her tangled hair and the crooked line of her back, her gentle caress tranquil and soothing in the best way possible. Percy shifted in her embrace, reluctant to move away, and eventually returned the hug then her arms felt like her own again.
Luke sighed in relief. Percy didn’t have to see her weak exhausted smile to know that it was there.
“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Luke asked, petting the waves of Percy’s long pitchy-black hair, playing with it with the very tips of her careful fingers.
“Better.” Percy murmured. It wasn’t okay, and Luke totally knew the difference, but for now it was enough.
“Good.” Luke replied. And then did a horrible job at suppressing a yawn.
Guilt pierced Percy with the purposefulness of a sword blade. She remembered that Luke’d slept peacefully before Percy’s call, and it made the blade in her chest turn.
Percy took a step away to look up at her girlfriend’s face, and the blade in her chest was pulled off making Percy’s heart bleed till she died of blood loss.
Luke looked great, Percy could see it distinctly. Her blond hair a total mess all around her neck and shoulders, her hoodie wet and crumpled by Percy’s crying, her scar, lining her face all the way from her eye to her jaw, more visible than usual in unruly morning light, the shadows under her eyes concerningly deep — and even in that state Luke managed to be the hottest and prettiest girl Percy saw in her entire damn life.
It didn’t mean Luke didn’t look horribly concerning.
Percy caught Luke’s barely noticeable wince when she saw her face and guessed she didn’t look much better. She silently went to the bathroom.
Outside, Luke was calling someone. Percy couldn’t distinguish words, and her head hurt when she tried. So she closed her eyes, washing her face, and weak-willedly decided Luke’d handle it on her own.
She swayed when she raised her head, her vision blackening. With water dripping from her, she stumbled outside and curled up on the couch while Luke paced round the room and argued over the phone. Maybe that was the police. Maybe that was some of Luke’s old acquaintances. Percy was too drained out to care.
She floated in some kind of half-sleep when Luke gently pulled her out of it.
“Hey, baby, I just need to go outside for a minute, but I’m not leaving and I’ll return. Okay?” she said softly, her hand caressing Percy’s cheek. Percy mumbled that she got her and dived into nothingness.
When she woke up, it was bright outside, and Luke was sitting on the carpet next to Percy’s couch and scrolling Tik-Tok. Percy nudged her shoulder sleepily to get her attention, and Luke at once turned to her.
“Good morning,” Luke smiled, faint yet warm. Percy returned the smile, barely visible.
“C’here,” She murmured. Luke got up at her couch in one smooth motion, and got into her arms in another.
“I’m sorry,” Percy whispered. Luke nuzzled at her.
“Don’t.” She cut her off. “I’m glad that you called me eventually, and I’m glad I could help you, and I’m just glad you’re safe now, that I can keep you safe. Please, please, please, do not be sorry for that.”
Percy didn’t reply.
“I love you so much, Percy,” Luke muttered into the crook of Percy’s neck. “I can’t even imagine what’d I do if something happened to you.”
“Love you too,” Percy replied softly. She’d never leave that unreplied. “Can… can we talk later please? I wanna rest.”
“Okay,” Luke murmured. “Me too. Something else?”
“I wanna rest. And I wanna leave. And… a chocolate, maybe?”
Luke chuckled.
“With salted caramel?”
“Yeah.”
“Well.” Luke sighed. Percy heard her smile. “I guess we can start from here.”