The Neighbors Accused Me of Child Abuse, But I Live Alone Chapter 1

Midnight. My phone was vibrating off the hook. Brenda from 1107 had tagged me eighteen times in the residents' group chat.

“To the young lady in 1207, the holidays are coming up. Try to find some decency!”

“The way you beat that child every day… the noise is going to give me a heart attack!”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and typed back.

“I live alone. You must be mistaken.”

Suddenly, Doris, the owner of 1307, jumped in.

“Honey, when you’re wrong, just admit it. Being stubborn won’t get you anywhere.”

“I’m a stickler for details. When I heard the child screaming, I went door to door, listening. It was definitely coming from your apartment.”

* * *

Brenda was still tagging me.

“Stop hitting him! You’re going to kill him!”

“The poor thing has cried his voice hoarse. It breaks my heart to listen to it!”

“What did he do, commit a mortal sin? Why are you beating him to death?”

It was a warm early summer night, but a sudden chill ran down my spine.

After buying the apartment, I’d installed blackout curtains to help me sleep. At eleven, the world had been silent. Now, the pitch-black room felt like a place where a monster could materialize and press its face against mine at any moment.

The hair on my arms stood on end. I scrambled out of bed, flicking on every light in every room. Only after checking every corner that could possibly hide a person did the fear begin to recede.

I looked back at the group chat. 99+ new messages.

The neighbors were all chiming in.

“LOL, 1207 went silent after getting called out.”

“Hasn’t 1207 only been here a little while? I remember her, a real pretty girl. Didn’t expect her to be a mom already, and with such a bad temper.”

“You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your neighbors. You make enemies now, but you’ll come crawling for help one day, and no one will be there for you.”

One resident, hiding behind the anonymity of not listing their apartment number, made a crude joke.

“What kind of screaming are we talking about? A real kid crying, or one of those adult women who puts on a baby voice?”

“Haha, you read my mind. Maybe our pretty neighbor is just playing a certain kind of ‘game.’”

“The old ladies just can’t keep up with the times. They don’t know about those games, so they misunderstood, hehe.”

…

I gritted my teeth and typed a reply.

“Brenda, I live alone. I was almost asleep when you started tagging me.”

“If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come up and see for yourself.”

I then addressed the upstairs neighbor.

“Doris, you said you were listening at doors. Are you sure you didn't get the apartment number wrong?”

After a brief silence, a reply came from Doris’s account.

“This is Doris’s husband. She’s gone to bed. I’ll have her message you tomorrow.”

Just then, Brenda tagged me again.

“Honey, you said you were almost asleep, but I can see your lights are all on. Do you sleep with the lights on?”

That set the neighbors off again.

“It’s true, I just stuck my head out the window. Even the living room light is on.”

“Wow, our neighbor is really something. Sleeping with all the lights on. Must be nice to be rich!”

“I just went and listened at 1207’s door. It’s quiet for now, but there’s a broken action figure on her doormat. One of the arms is snapped off.”

“Yikes. You think the kid broke his toy by accident, and she beat him half to death for it?”

“What a terrifying mother. Maybe she’s bipolar?”

“Whoa, that’s creepy when you think about it. She even invited Brenda to her apartment. What if she was planning to lock the door and come at her with a knife? These days, the crazies get away with murder.”

I was completely speechless. I wanted to just leave the group and be done with it. But for the sake of neighborly harmony, I had to explain, point by point.

“I only turned the lights on after I saw the messages in the group.”

“As for the toy, some kid probably broke it and just left it at my door.”

I started a video recording on my phone, doing a continuous shot of every room, and sent it to the group.

“Just me. No child.”

Still, some were unconvinced.

“What does that prove? The kid is probably hiding in a closet or under the bed.”

“The people upstairs and downstairs both say it’s you, and you still won’t admit it?”

“Am I the only one who thinks something is off here? Maybe 1207 has some bad juju attached to her?”

“You mean, like a ghost?”

“OMG! Peace, prosperity, and all that jazz.”

“Alright, alright, it’s late. This is getting out of hand!”

Brenda stepped in to play peacemaker.

“Honey, children need patience. You can’t solve everything by hitting them.”

“It’s late, so I won’t come over. Just stop and go to sleep.”

Staring at the now-quiet group chat, I was at a loss for words. It felt like I’d been caught in a storm that had nothing to do with me.

It was nearly one in the morning, and I had a business meeting the next day. I had to get some sleep.

I never expected that the next evening at nine, Brenda would start tagging me again, this time spamming the chat with a dozen 60-second voice messages.