the panicked room

the creepy guy in my building has moved into the apartment right next to mine.

it seems the weird guy who used to live next door is gone (who knew?) and, unfortunately, the creepy one now lives there.

i’ve seen this guy – let’s call him omar – coming and going from the building often. he’s lived here for maybe a year and a half or so, in a bachelor unit on the 10th floor, and we usually run into each other in the elevator. he always seems to be around; unlike the weird guy, whom i'd see maybe once every six months or so, i see omar at least once a week. he’s stocky and persian, maybe mid- to late-40s with a thick accent, and uncomfortably flirty with me.

he has always, always given me this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. like there’s something else to him, lurking below that friendly demeanor. i can’t explain it except to say i’ve always felt very glad he didn’t live on my floor or know my unit number.

shortly after he moved in, i would chat with his then-neighbour (a young woman) in the laundry room, and she lamented that he “smokes a lot, and drinks a lot” and that she didn’t like running into him in the hall. then, last year, i noticed he was bringing prostitutes into the building – and i mean the stereotypical tweaked-out-mess prostitutes you think only exist in movies or at hell house. once, one of them – reeking of cigarettes and looking like she’d been dragged out of an alley somewhere – was in the main-floor vestibule, trying to get into the building, but our super (god bless her!) was standing on the inside of the door threatening to call the police. i slipped past and heard the hooker say (to my super), “i swear to god i want to kill you right now.”

again, i thanked the heavens that omar lived four floors away from me, and i hoped that maybe he’d move out of the building altogether at some point soon. he was like a blemish on the tenant list of otherwise pleasant folks i'd encountered here.

but yesterday morning, as i was getting on the elevator on my floor, i heard a door open (and then someone locking it) down the hall and a mumbly male voice yell, “wait! i’m coming, too!”

so i held the door and, to my horror, omar appeared and got on.

it was like a giant weight plummeted inside me.

my head was spinning. how was this possible? which unit had he just come from? he locked the door, which meant he had KEYS. why was he now ON MY FLOOR??????

he said nothing to me as we rode down to the ground level, then wished me a “very nice day” as we headed out in different directions.

as i went for a walk, i began putting puzzle pieces together. there had been one sunday a couple of weeks ago when i’d seen omar putting out paint cans and rollers and the like to the garbage. there’d been an inordinate amount of noise coming from the apartment next to mine (formerly home to the weird guy) in the past few weeks, as well. just lots of banging and hammering and such... but i’d figured maybe weird guy was redecorating.

no.

it turns out what i heard was omar moving in and setting up house.

and i have literally been consumed by overwhelming anxiety and panic since making this discovery.

the moment he stepped onto the elevator with me, all my hell house traumas came screaming back into my consciousness. every cell in body suddenly reconnected with the same fear and dread that had overcome me for so many months... feelings that it took me a long time to resolve, even after fleeing HH. my brain began to race through scenarios and, when i arrived back home later, it was like the energy in the hallway and inside my unit had changed. like this amazing, wonderful apartment i have has suddenly been thrown into a dark and ominous shade, and where i once felt secure i suddenly feel nervous, jittery and afraid. before i went to bed last night, i twice checked that i locked the door, and i’ve caught myself slipping into similar HH-esque behaviours.

i’m sure some (or, perhaps, all) of this is just PTSD rearing its head, that my brain is blowing everything out of proportion, and that there probably won’t be any problems.

but, for now, i kind of want to cry.