THE MAN BEHIND THE DOUBLE DOORS

“Alright, listen I did this for you, picked you up and let you rent from me so cheap in this expensive city, so you’re going to do something for me, got it?” Abe spewed orders as he drove his old beat-up Honda to his apartment in Brooklyn. Pointing his fingers at me from the driver’s seat, he continued, “You’re going to agree to stay with me for at least six months so I can get enough money out of this investment. You being my tenant and all. Got it?” Abe stated this as a fact rather than a question or a request.

I took a quick deep breath and tried hard not to sound like a nervous wreck. “Understand, as long as I feel safe and everything after I see your place I will agree to stay.” I kept staring out the window at my new surroundings as Abe sped down the packed highway full of strangers.

Abe stopped Infront of a tall building, go on get your bags and wait by that door, I must go to park my car. As I waited for Abe, my gut instinct was to check my uber app and see how much a ride was back to the airport, just in case. Eighty dollars, ok.

Stepping into the apartment, I looked around, noticing some rather odd situations. For starters, the room was really a couch in a space with two other women sharing this room with me. Also, Abe was not just a landlord, it was his apartment, and he had a separate closed off room with all three of us. However, his door was not a solid wood door, it was glass double doors and very much so see through. This was all news to me, I had believed I’d have my own private room to sleep in tonight. Turns out, I just have a couch.

Abe went into the kitchen, he opened the fridge, it was completely empty, except one clear plastic container of what appeared to be damp cookies. They had some kind of moisture on them, like they had melted or something. He handed one to me, “Here, eat, you must be starving.” He stared me down until I accepted the cookie. I smiled politely and said thank you. I waited for him to go to the other room, then quickly buried the cookie under other items in his trash can.

I turned to grab my charger out of my bag to get my phone back on so I could just sit and think about my next move. I plugged my phone in and set it on the kitchen counter.

I sat on the couch waiting for it to turn on. Abe had gone to his room, but he kept standing at his glass door and staring at me. When he wasn’t satisfied with what he was seeing, he re-entered the room and would just stop in the kitchen and stare at me. I had grabbed my planner and acted occupied as he did this to try to avoid his awkward stares. He asked finally if I needed sheets or blankets, I responded with a sure to not alert him that I wasn’t planning on staying. I got up and went to the cabinet he opened full of sheets. “Which would you like?” Abe appeared confused as he kept staring at me intently like he was almost waiting for something.

“This one is fine.” I pulled a white sheet with blue ducks all over it out of the cabinet. “Thank you.” I made sure to use manners regardless of how I felt to try to maintain a peaceful environment while I worked out my next move.

“Well, you’re welcome, but what are you going to give me for those?” Abe slammed the cabinet door and leaned back on the wall behind him crossing his arms while staring at me again.

“Excuse me? I already paid you rent, what else do you need? Are sheets extra?” I avoided the obvious perversion of his question and hoped it would force him to change the subject since I wasn’t willing to even go there in conversation. Maybe he would get the point.

Then like a ton of bricks it hit me. I figured it out. My gut had been right. The cookie he handed me; it wasn’t a snack. He had drugged it. He expected me to eat it, that’s why he was staring at me confused, he wandered how I was still awake, not passed out on his disgusting floor. I grabbed my phone once it was on and headed back to the couch. This would not be my home, or safe space ever.

I opened the uber app on my phone, then waited. I needed Abe to go to bed, so I could get out of this apartment.

Abe finally went to his room, and after a few times of him looking out at me, he finally turned his light off. All was quiet, and after about 15 minutes of no Abe appearances, hit pay now, grabbed my things walking quietly towards the door, checking behind me to be sure Abe remained in bed.

I slung my duffel over my shoulder, placed my smaller luggage bag on top of my larger one, and ran. I ran all the way down the stairs out of the apartment doors, into the street, banging on the door of a black BMW asking if he was my Uber. The driver held his phone up showing the Uber app with my name marked as the passenger. I took a deep breath, this time with relief.

“Drive, please! Get me away from here.” The Uber driver looked back at my terrified expression on my face saying you’re ok now as he hit the gas and left the dangerous room behind us.

“I don’t know what you’re running from, but your safe. How about I take you to a hotel I know that will shelter you for the night and you can deal with this tomorrow, the airport isn’t safe at night.” He was calm, relaxing my nerves.

“I’d like that; I came here to escape a bad situation only to wind up in another one. I don’t want to give up yet, but I do need to make some calls and get family involved. A stay at a hotel is a good idea. Thank you.” I sat back in my seat as my uber driver played classical music, driving me safely to the hotel.

Sending a few texts, explaining what happened on the drive over led me to a bank account with donations for my new life to remain possible. I must learn to stop pushing everyone away when I’m going through a hard time. Family is supposed to help and be there, it’s about time I let them. Another bad habit I picked up from my abusive relationship, isolation. Unlearning all this will take time, and now, thanks to an uber driver, and a few loved ones, I get that time and freedom.

Ohio native Krystle Berry, 35, brings a unique blend of experiences to her writing. Following eight years of honorable service in the U.S. Army, concluding in 2015, Krystle pursued her academic interests, earning an associate's degree in digital design and is now dedicated to completing her bachelor's in creative writing. Her passions are diverse, ranging from the vibrant energy of New York City to the ever-evolving worlds of fashion, art, music, and travel – all fueling her creative spirit. As well as volunteering at fashion shows and creating advertising for fashion shows. Freedom is a core value for Krystle, a principle she actively seeks in her own life and often explores in her work. Drawing upon over ten years of experience in logistics and leadership roles, she aspires to merge her professional acumen with her lifelong love for writing and sketching, with a long-term goal of becoming an editor at Condé Nast or Hearst Magazines. Krystle's writing is deeply personal, often stemming from significant events in her own journey.