The Scott Twins

Ethan's P.O.V.

"No one deserves to live in fear of the person who is supposed to love you most." - Ethan

*2,222 words*

“He’s at it again.” My brother looked up from the book he was reading and stared at the wall that connected our apartment to our neighbor’s apartment. “Should we call the cops?”

“You know what will happen if we call the cops, Bryan,” I sighed, barely able to focus on the vegetables I was in the middle of cutting up for dinner tonight.

I looked over my shoulder at my brother, lounging on the couch. His eyes were still on the wall, the book in his hands forgotten.

Every few days we would hear the neighbors fighting. Well, not fighting. We hear the guy yelling at his girlfriend while she cries. The first time we heard them, it was awful. We heard glass shattering, and the yelling was so loud that we could almost clearly hear what he was yelling about.

He threw around the word “worthless” a lot.

------

We called the cops after we heard the glass shattering and her screaming. That was a huge mistake. The cops showed up, and we left our door cracked open just enough to listen to their conversation. The boyfriend had opened the door. They notified him that they got a call on a noise complaint and wanted to make sure everything was ok. He assured them that it was. We listened as the cops asked a little louder, trying to get his girlfriend’s attention to ask her the same question. “We were watching a horror movie, and my girlfriend got startled and dropped her glass,” he told them.

Bullshit.

We heard nothing but a timid “sorry” from her as the cops told them to try to keep it down from now on.

Soon after the cops left, he yelled some more and took off, slamming the door on his way out. Bryan tried to go over there to check on the girlfriend while he was gone, but she wouldn’t answer the door. The next day, Bryan told me the boyfriend got back home hours later -- after I had already left for my night shift at the hospital. He was wasted and completely irate.

After that, I started keeping as close of an eye on the girlfriend as I could. When I was home, I would listen to see if I could hear her in their apartment. Most of the time, I could. Our walls seemed to be paper-thin. I could tell when she was home alone. She would listen to music, and I could sometimes hear her singing along. I couldn’t help but smile as I heard her sing to the music. She sounded completely carefree. I soon found myself writing down the songs she liked to listen to. Paying extra attention to the ones she sang along to and adding them to my iTunes. I looked forward to it.

The nights I was in charge of dinner, I’d keep the tv and radio off so I could hear what she was listening to. I knew exactly when her boyfriend was about to come home because about 5 minutes before he was expected to arrive, the music would stop. He seemed to work a regular 9-5 kind of job, but her schedule appeared to be a little more sporadic. Wherever she worked, she didn’t appear to have a consistent schedule.

.....

We ate our dinner in silence, looking up at the wall every now and then when we would hear the boyfriend. A few cabinets were slammed. We could have just turned the tv on and drowned out the noise, but neither of us felt that was the right thing to do. We felt terrible for the girlfriend. Something had to be done. But what?

.....

“Morning, Bro!” Bryan came walking into the kitchen dressed in a t-shirt and his gi pants. He was the owner of a local dojo and also taught most of the upper-level classes. “You up for some sparring before your shift at the hospital later?” He knew I wouldn’t say no to some sparring, especially when I had the time to do so. We took martial arts classes together all throughout our childhood. I only practice as a hobby and as a way to stay in shape now, whereas he takes it far more seriously. As soon as he graduated college with a business degree, he opened his own dojo, and it’s been doing great. However, I went into the medical field and haven’t had as much time to train in the last few years.

“Hell yeah, I could use the exercise,” I could actually use a hell of a lot more than just the exercise. It’s a great way to relieve stress.

"Have you already eaten breakfast?" I asked him as he began gathering his sparring gear and shoving it into his gym bag. It's only 7 am, but I know he's usually up before the sun most mornings.

"I got some at the dojo, and I'm bringing my Hulk juice," he winked as he picked up his shaker cup and filled it with water before adding in some protein powder.

"Why do you have to call it your Hulk juice?" I couldn't help but smile at the stupid name.

"Because it's funny, little bro!"

"What do you mean, little? I'm 6 minutes older than you!" The audacity of this dude.

"Cause this Hulk juice makes me bigger than you," he smiled as he flexed his arms. "I mean, look at these guns!"

He wasn't lying. He was noticeably bigger than I was. We were both 6'3'', but he was definitely more muscular. I was fit, but with med school, residency, and now working as an E.R. doctor, I hadn't had much time to keep up with Bryan.

"Yeah, HULK SMASH!" I yell, then laugh at my brother as he laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, see you at 10, and don’t be late!” He yelled as he threw his gym bag over his shoulder and walked out the door.

At 9:30, I grabbed my own gym bag and headed out the door to meet Bryan at the dojo. As I was locking the apartment door, I looked over, and there she was. I had never actually gotten a good look at our neighbor. Our schedules seemed to be so different that we never actually ran into each other.

Every now and then, I would hear her leave soon after I got in, and once, she got off the elevator as I was getting on. She kept her head down, and I never got a good look at her. She wasn’t paying attention and never noticed me. So I took my time locking my door and just watched her from the corner of my eye.

She seemed so small. Of course, I was a solid 6 foot 3 inches, so many women looked small to me. But she was even more so. Maybe 5′1" or 5′2"? Very petit with sandy blonde hair that she wore up in a messy bun. I watched as she dug in her brown messenger bag for something. She sighed and walked back into her apartment, reemerging just a moment later with her keys jingling in her hand. I watched her lock her door and pop her earbuds in her ears before turning and walking towards the elevator.

She had to pass me to get to the elevator, and as soon as she turned in my direction, I saw her body stiffen. She didn’t look up at me, but I could tell that she noticed I was standing there. She wrapped her arms around herself and seemed to almost hug the opposite wall as she walked past. She looked scared. As soon as she had turned towards me, I was finally able to see more than just her profile.

The split second before she put her head down, I noticed her features. She was beautiful. It was hard to look away. She kept her eyes down as she walked, and I noticed how full her eyelashes were. She didn’t seem to wear much makeup, if any at all. She had freckles that spread across her nose and her cheeks, which looked a bit flushed. When she walked past me, I caught a whiff of vanilla. Mmmm. I quickly locked my own door, tossed my gym bag up over my shoulders, and headed in the same direction. I kept a good distance between us since it seems like she wasn’t very comfortable with other people around. Maybe it’s just men. She definitely has a good reason as to why men would make her feel a bit uncomfortable.

She turned and stood in front of the elevators. Still looking down at the floor. As soon as the elevator doors opened, she shuffled in and pressed the button to the main level. I followed in after her. I wanted to say something to her. Even if it was just a “Hi,” but her earbuds were still in her ears. I wish I could hear what song she was listening to.

As the elevator doors closed, I backed up to lean against the back wall. I watched as she fidgeted with the strap of her bag. She was wearing a simple white short-sleeved shirt, a loose, dark green skirt that stopped just below her knees, a lightweight green, floral-patterned scarf, and flat shoes. The scarf was odd. I could tell it was only a light one, one you’d see many women wear when there was a slight, cool breeze in the air at the beginning of fall or on a breezy spring day. But it’s the middle of summer now, and the weather has been hot and humid lately. Maybe she wore it just as an accessory. Still, it couldn't possibly be comfortable to wear even a light scarf in this heat.

She didn’t look back at me the entire elevator ride down to the ground level and then rushed over to the mailboxes as soon as the doors opened. I took my time walking over to the mailboxes as well. Usually, I would check the mail on the way to the apartment, not on the way out. But I wanted to see her. Since we’re neighbors, our mailboxes are located right next to each other. She already had her mail in her hand and was quickly flipping through the envelopes. My sudden appearance must have startled her because as soon as she noticed I was there, she jumped, dropping her mail on the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” I said as I bent down to help her gather her mail. It must have been a couple of days since she checked the mailbox because there was definitely more than just a day’s worth of mail on the floor. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She seemed so jumpy.

“It’s fine.” She said quietly as she pulled one of her earbuds out, still not looking up at me. She focused on gathering the many envelopes. I went to hand her the few envelopes that I picked up, but as she reached over to take them, her scarf shifted slightly. Under the bright lights of the hallway, I noticed a slight discoloration just below her jawbone, like a light bruise.

Instinctively, I began to reach up to push the scarf a little more out of the way, to get a better look. My curious doctors’ instincts taking over. Wrong move, Ethan! She noticed my hand reaching towards her, and she flinched away, head still down.

“Are you alright?” I asked her in a low voice. I had to take a deep breath and remind myself that we were not at the hospital, and she was not my patient. I needed to keep my hands to myself.

“I’m fine,” she lied as she hastily tried to readjust her scarf and quickly stood.

I expected her to head out the door, but instead, she turned back towards the mailboxes and placed most of the envelopes back inside before locking it back up.

That was odd. Why would she only take a couple out and leave the rest?

I watched as she turned and hurried out the door.

It seems like her boyfriend does more than just yell at her. Now I understand why she’s so jumpy. Taking a deep breath to calm the anger I felt building up in the pit of my stomach, I began to stand.

As I started to stand, I noticed an envelope that must have slipped under the table located below the mailboxes. I bent to pick it up. It was hers. I knew because it was addressed to the apartment next to ours, and now, I knew her name. Emily M. Davis.

Emily.

It suits her.

We can’t just stand by anymore. Now that I’m pretty sure he puts his hands on her, we will have to think of something. She doesn’t deserve that. No one deserves to live in fear of the person who is supposed to love you most.