Part 3The Night Caller

Brenda rolled her eyes dismissively.

“So what if you’re married? Lillian Hayes dresses like a tramp every day. It’s obvious she’s trying to seduce men.”

“Who knows how many married men in this building she’s already slept with.”

“It’s a good thing my husband works out of state. I wouldn’t feel safe living next to her otherwise.”

I work in a hospital. I spend most of my day in scrubs. When I’m not working, my clothes are perfectly normal and modest.

I couldn’t fathom how she had twisted that into something so vile.

I tried to stay calm, but my heart was hammering against my ribs with pure rage.

“Ms. Jones, if you’re going to make accusations, you need proof. You slander me again, and we’ll settle this in court.”

Brenda crossed her arms, smirking.

“You know whether it’s true or not. I’ve knocked on your door plenty of times when you refused to open it. You must have been hiding a man in there.”

“You act all high and mighty, but you’re just a slut.”

Her insults grew more and more vulgar.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

Seeing me actually call the police, a flicker of panic crossed Brenda’s eyes.

But then she glanced down at her round belly, and her arrogant expression returned.

The police arrived within half an hour.

Before I could say a word, Brenda burst into tears, playing the victim.

“Officers, you have to help me!” she wailed. “Lillian Hayes, a doctor, is bullying a pregnant woman! My stomach is killing me, I’m dying, and she won’t even look at me! Isn’t that attempted murder?”

The officers frowned and turned to me. “What’s going on here?”

I didn’t say much. I just played the security footage from my phone.

“I am a doctor, but I am not obligated to be her 24/7 free clinic. She harasses me every night and verbally abuses me. I want to press charges.”

After watching the video, the officers looked just as fed up as I was.

The lead officer addressed Brenda sternly. “Ma’am, your behavior constitutes public disturbance and harassment. Please come with us to the station.”

Brenda hadn’t expected this. She started screaming.

“Why are you arresting me? Lillian is the one who refused to help a dying woman! You should be arresting her!”

One of the officers took out a pair of handcuffs, but as he approached, she threw herself on the floor, clutching her stomach.

“Help! The police are trying to kill me! They’re going to kill me and my baby!”

She was impossible to deal with. And with the pregnancy, it was a minefield.

The officer gave me an apologetic look. “Ms. Hayes, she’s pregnant. We can’t forcibly remove her.”

“How about this: we’ll give her a formal warning for now. If it happens again, we’ll file for a court order.”

I knew their hands were tied. I could only nod.

After that incident, Brenda was quiet for a few days. I finally got some much-needed sleep.

Just when I thought she had given up, I came home from work to find the window to my apartment wide open, the reinforced security screen violently torn.

I thought I’d been robbed. I rushed inside, only to find Brenda sitting on my sofa, eating a durian.