I have a small story to share and it begins on a stereotypical rainy Saturday.
It was around 3 in the afternoon when the rain stopped and we found ourselves wanting to venture outside.
I wanted to do 15 mins of yoga before we left, so got onto my mat for a quick flow. I was 10 mins in when I heard a huge crash of glass in an apartment down the hall from us. We heard a girl yell, “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!” Brandon and I look at each other, a silent exchange, and I continued my flow.
It was a matter of seconds that I was stopped cold in my downward facing dog when I heard a girl scream. It was a cold, deep, and layered cry that made me not even think as I jumped off my mat and ran out of our apartment, following the noise.
I heard her say, “GET OFF ME…GET OFF ME…STOP….LEAVE….GET OUT…LEAVE!!” It was a rush of adrenaline and intuition that I found myself banging on the door of the apartment, “OPEN UP!”
The girl opened the door to her small studio apartment. Glass was everywhere and a guy was on the floor, hair disheveled. The bed sheets were tangled in knots of struggle and the girl was caked in tears and rage. I held the door open and stood in the doorframe and she begged him, “GET OUT…LEAVE.”
He kept repeating, “Where did this come from?” He questioned her behavior, her motives, gaslighting her to calm down, to pin it on her.
He wouldn’t get up off the ground until she gave him his sweatshirt, the girl took it off herself and threw it at him. I interjected, “She told you to get out…so fucking leave.” He kept mumbling to himself, “where did this come from?” I moved as he exited her apartment, she slammed the front door and I heard her cry deeply.
I turned around to find Brandon. He was there the whole time making sure I was ok, to intervene if needed. We headed back to our apartment after watching the guy head toward the elevators.
Once we closed our door I began shaking all over, my hands, my body. I began to cry in shock and fear of the situation I just ran into. Brandon held me as I cried, kissing my forehead, he whispered, “You’re ok.”
After calming down and drying my tears, Brandon told me it was best for me to get some fresh air. We got ready, in a blur, I put on my shoes and coat. I told Brandon to het the elevator and I needed to make sure the girl was ok. I walked to her apartment and knocked on the door. She answered softy through the door.
“I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”
I heard her sniffle as she replied, “I’m fine thank you for helping.”
“I’m here if you need anything, if he comes back call the cops.”
I heard her holding back her cry, as she picked up glass from the floor. The porcelain white shattered across the hardwood, remnants of the fight on the floor.
I am grateful for my intuition, gut reaction, and adrenaline. No one else came, no one chose to listen to her plead for him to get off of her. I remember seeing a guy leave his apartment with trash, he lived a few doors down from her apartment and he didn’t even think to see if she was OK amidst all of the screams.
A part of me is shocked, disgusted, and angry that no one else stepped in, that I was the only one to not think twice. I may be emotionally driven but that does not make me reckless, it makes me courageous.