by Janine Burrell
Life is always full of tough choices, where any given option leads down a different path, following a course that might never have been taken otherwise. Such was the tough choice Allison Brown faced concerning whether to pick Apartment 308 (with a view of the woods) or Apartment 107 (with a view of the parking lot). When the leasing agent had offered her the choice, Allison had debated the issue fully, as she did with everything in her life.
And so Allison came to regret her choice the very first night she moved in. Exhausted from moving and unpacking, all she had wanted was a decent night's sleep. But the walls were paper thin, and her neighbor in 310 seemed to have a penchant for loud music. She had considered knocking on the door but thought it un-neighborly, a bad way to start off her new life on her own. Perhaps Apartment 107 would have had quieter neighbors, she thought with regret. But by midnight the music had settled down, and Allison relaxed amidst the half-emptied boxes and general chaos that surrounded her new bed. It was her choice, after all, to move into cheap housing, and if poorly-insulated walls came along with that choice, so be it.
Having graduated college a few months earlier, she had been unable to find a "real" job and had moved back home over the summer. The few months living with her parents again had been unbearable. So, making yet another choice, Allison had moved out and signed on with a temporary employment agency to earn some income. She couldn't afford much in the way of rent, so she had settled on a one-bedroom, budget apartment near the university since she was familiar with the area.
She suspected that many of the apartment residents were students or graduates as well, given the location and cost. So it surprised her when, around 2 AM on that first night, she was awoken by what sounded like a child crying next door in Apartment 310. The sounds were muffled at first but enough to indicate it was a female doing the crying. Allison tried to go back to sleep, but the crying grew in its intensity, and the walls were so thin that she couldn't help but pick up snippets here and there.
"No, please ... be good ... promise..." And the loud repeated SMACK of what sounded like a hand meeting flesh. "Please ... Daddy ... no!"
Oh, that poor girl!
Allison's heart broke as she imagined what must be a very painful lesson taking place. At two o'clock in the morning, no less, in the bedroom that shared a wall with hers.
The crying turned to loud wailing thereafter as the smacking continued, and Allison covered her head with a pillow to dampen the sound. Although she had never been spanked as a child, the thought of such punishment appalled her ... yet also excited her a little (if she was honest with herself).
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