Brown door after graduation I decided to move away from my mother to a removable apartment.

The work then allowed (and I worked as a "watch consultant" in an organization engaged in all sorts of stone houses, which will be a separate story). I saved options, looked at the apartment and chose the one-room "Khrushchev" in the city center, half an hour walk from my old apartment. First, the price arranged me, secondly, the apartment was in a fairly good condition, and the granny-hostess guess to spend cable TV and the Internet there. The computer and the TV, naturally, was not, but I grabbed my home from home. Life seemed to be established. He took his dog from home, Max, brought a friend Dashka to visit, she also prepared meals. Then we finally rummaged. I did not notice the oddities. Is that my dog whispered in the evenings and did not find his place. I still write off it that he just missed the mother - he loves the animal to the mistress. Sun tracks run, but after midnight calm down, go to bed in my feet. It began to all from the day when Mom asked to return Max home. Say, boring her at home, and my dog, as I mentioned, I missed my mother. Well, returned and returned. After his job, I drove, walked it, and then Breul slowly to the apartment. The road past the park, morning coolness, on the apartment of the young lady in a bathrobe with breakfast waiting - beauty! Having come to the apartment, I discovered my lady asked and pale. She, as I saw that I was standing on the threshold, I rushed me right away. Kisses, crying. I am alerted. - What happened, sunshine? - I ask. - Pretty, they shout there so much, so shout! They fight, quarrel, running on the staircase! And he is kogotit in the door, shouts: "Open, bitch, and I will carry out the doors!" - The girl went into sobs. - Wait, I did not understand. Who screams who runs? - I asked in bewilderment. - Sosse-E-Soft-and-and! .. - Dasha extended through sobs. Thille thinking, I armed with a dubber sided with oak, which I still keep at the door just in case, and went to the neighbors. On the staircase there were four apartments. The common walls were only with one, and the Dashka claimed that it was behind the wall that people quarreled and felt, and it was their wooden door to whople when they ran through the stairs. Wooden doors were only in our apartment and in the neighboring - the rest of the two were iron. And so I stand under the neighboring door, squeezing in my hand the baton. The door is not an uphaly, covered with lolver brown paint. Two old castles are embedded in the door under a large "bearded" key, a honest iron handle is nailed. "Hello from alcoholics 90s!" - I thought. I was sadly smiling, I pressed the call button. Without hearing any sounds behind the door, knocked on her fist. Because of our doors, Dashkina Sobypi and the sobbing nose were heard, and my Nutro was filled with even greater hate to the unrelated neighbors. I knocked on the door still persistently, now the foot. No answer. Folding a gluspatic apartment, what the light costs, I called the door of the next apartment. The door challenged the young woman of thirty years, which was named Alena. Alena was divorced and lived with a small son alone when we drove, she came to visit us stably once a week. She opened his mouth to say something, but seeing me, smiled: - Oh, that's you. And I thought, to this, "the woman nodded in the direction of the brown door," someone will break into the guests. Come on, what to stand on the threshold! And Daria call your call, I'm on Nalu tea. Having settled in the kitchen by Alena, we talked, sickling a bad apartment and its inhabitants. Alyona told that he also hears himself, as some kind of wall was going on, shouts and mat, and the light burns in the windows in the windows. By the way, the dirty broken windows of the apartment went to the courtyard, and one of them, completely broken, was hung from the inside with a blurred children's lobby. In general, the picture is impartial. Speaking at about two o'clock, we reset a little accumulated negative. The only thing that was alarmed was: neither we nor Alena could remember the appearance of residents of the apartment for the brown door. Alyona said that a married couple, drunken alcoholics live there. When everything is quiet, they, it means, either go out of the apartment, either ends. But when they go to the intercourse, then the peese is everything! The man, according to a neighbor, saw only her son Kostik, and even then in the window when he played in the courtyard. He said that "Uncle Scary" watched them, and then "hid". On Tom with Alena, we agrees. Began to live on. Stably times or two a month of the Balagan with a knock on our door was repeated, but only when I was not at home. I come, Daria is all in snot, shirts, shakes. Every time I tried to reach the neighbors - the result of zero. Once I was visited by Idyanka. I took the go of the go of the floor, but in the evening it was still out - as if to work. Then he scratched into our apartment, sat down at the door and let's wait. I sat, but so nothing happened. Well, I think I'll go to sleep. We are lying with Dashka, talk, discuss public morals, and as soon as such Alkasha is wearing. And now, hours at 11 pm, the voices begin to be heard behind the wall - male and female. I heard in "Khrushchekh" is always fine, but the hostess just on the wall of the carpet hung (and, by the way, the cross is wooden), so that words do not disassemble, but it is clearly scandal. He is yelling something, Mat Babu Croot. She snaps up, starts to let heavy items begins - hear how something falls with a knock on the floor and rolls. Well, the pots launched in the breather, well, it happens. My childhood with similar neighbors has passed - on top of the teacher-schizophrenic, to the right of the moonshine, left through one apartment - drug addicts. Straight nostalgia reed. We lie with Darya, we listen, she clicked into my shoulder - afraid. You can hear how the castle opens in the next apartment, and then steps on concrete steps - slag-slap. As if bare feet someone runs. Then other steps - someone more and more. So, Baba from the man escaped, and he catches it. The cargo steps were removed somewhere up the stairs, then down. Then I clearly felt that he stopped under our door. As if breathing hear him. The silence was hung like a pulling, and then the dash whispers: "I'm scared ..." - but this whisper sounds somehow unbearably loudly in the surviving silence. And began. On the door almost immediately began to roll fists and feet - and a man with all the body, probably, drooped! - Come out, - shouts, - bitch! Svarce to Heraham! Hid at your nadka?! Yes, I will burn you alive there, hear? !! The heart was furious, but I got up and pulled the pants. Fear before idling behind the door of Merck compared with the desire to protect his, which has become familiar, life. I grabbed the faithful battle and put the bare feet in sneakers. My hand stretched to the castle, but then I heard the door of the next apartment slammed. Looking a peephole, I did not see anyone outside the door. I decided not to shoot sneakers and pants, called the Dashka, and we sat down at the table in the kitchen, putting a teapot on fire. Cookware has begged behind the wall, something hard fell. The man drove anger on furniture and other objects that came up. Someone and I nervously drank tea and silently listened to the workful Balagan. The neighboring door slammed once again, but already hiding. Apparently, the spouse of Alkash returned. Well, I think it will begin now. And it began, from which my blood in the veins still sweat when I remember. Almost immediately, silence pierced a female cry, in which such pain and horror, which seemed to be drumming, ready to burst voluntarily, just not to hear these sounds. As if it was not a woman screaming, but a circular saw was worked, cutting live pigs. Creek squeezed only for a second to return even more terrible sticky notes. Dashka dropped a cup, and she scattered with a ringing to dozens of fragments, pulling my shoes in the sneakers of the legs of hot tea. I put my cup on the table, otherwise it would certainly repeat the fate of Datina, because my hands were shaking as I never got shaking in my life. It was very not very much. I took my mobile and scored the police. The sluggish voice of the duty sounded in the tube, as if angelic singing among the whole of the sound nightmare, which was surrounded by: - on duty, Starin Lipchenko, listen to you. - Come Rather, here a person is killed! Address: Metallurgist Avenue, such a house. - Already drove the car ten minutes ago, stop calling! - irritably blurted out the duty and hung up. The cries gradually subsided, going to intermittent sobs. Dashka, climbing into bed and covered his head with a pillow, erected the sounds from the neighboring apartment. The door was called. Not knocked, namely they called. I heard the call of Alenina Apartments and the clan of the iron door. Militia arrived. With relief, I went out on the staircase, where people crowded in the form. There was an outfit of ordinary PPS-nicks in blue shirts and with a folder, as well as three dozens of children from "Berkut" (such a special division of militia, streets at night are additionally patrolled) with automata and sledgehammer. Alena caused the police to our address before me. The Mesh Lieutenant in the rank of Lieutenant asked us about her neighbors from this apartment, about who of us had caused the police, something shovel in a notebook and knocked into a gliding brown door. As I expected, the answer was not followed. The police warned loudly that the door would be broken if the owners would not open. Zero reaction. "Ломайте!" - threw the sucted, and one of the "Berkutov" with force smeared a sledgehammer on the door. The castle scattered, and the door, slowly opening, crawled on us. The guy with a sledgehammer jerk opened the door and got up behind her, looking at his colleagues, who, instead of breaking in the apartment, stood on the spot as the inserted ... I pinned myself at the side. No, it was clearly not a dream. Behind the door, the passage was laid by brick. Tightly so laid, only at the top of the cherry slot centimeter three width. Guards of the order were overwhelmed, and then evil stared at us: who is on me who is on Alyona. We just spread our hands, and the lieutenant, twisting the hand to the temple, was already turned around and walked down the stairs, as a decent sobbed sobbed was heard from the apartment. We all turned to brickwork. The lieutenant turned his time and gave the order to smash the masonry. The guy with a sledgehammer persistently pounded bricks for about ten minutes, snapped, angry neighbors came down on the sound, demanding immediately stop noise. Most residents present in the entrance were my age or a little older, and I could not say anything about the inhabitants of the apartment to the lieutenant. Lieutenant quickly recorded me, Alyona, with a dasha who got out of our apartment and also three more guys in those who are understood, and Berkutov, sending lanterns in the dark door, disappeared into The doorway, with the creak shifting the bang bricks by the berths. Behind them, squeezing in the hand of the table "Makarycha", the lieutenant stepped into the darkness. Two sullen PPS-Nikov remained with us. From the apartment, the sounds of the steps, the clatter of the equipment of the special forces, the rays of the lanterns flashed in the goy, catching bizarre silhouettes from the darkness. A quiet "all, hugging" was heard - and one of the rolling SPCs came out of the goal, and then the Music Lieutenant. His shirt was smeared with something black. - Is there a lantern? - I asked me the Music Policeman. I nodded and brought my powerful walking lamp, and also grabbed a large lantern of circular lighting with an elevated radio. We are with PPS-nicknames, understood and one Berkutsch, entered the doorway. - neatly here. Under the feet shine, "the lieutenant warned, and I followed his advice. Under the legs were the burnt floorboards, some fragments and debris, curves rusty nails. I looked around. The walls were all in the soot, only under the ceiling there were fragments of doptop wallpapers with stupid flowers. The heart was alarmingly poured, and I hugged the free hand by making a dash, which nervously gnawed to nail, looked around with wide eyes. - And now somebody explain to me, "the lieutenant began, turning his face to us, - what is happening for garbage? Naturally, we could not explain anything. PPS-nicknames released us in apartments, pre-collected the data and sealing the apartment with a brown door. I called my grandmother, who removed the apartment. She agreed to come and tell everything he knows. We gathered in our kitchen: I, Dasha, Alyona with the son of Kostikov, the guys, who were recorded in the understood, our district and long-grade investigator, who was entrusted to conduct a business. Everyone was waiting for Babu Nadia, the hostess of our apartment. She arrived much later than promised. I sat down at the table, dropped the drops to myself, drank. Militiamen nervously moved the papers, Alyona with a bone went to our hall to play. Baba Nadia began his story. I will endune the unnecessary details of the family life and the origin of the family of Hope Pavlovna, I will leave only what is connected with the apartment. In general, lived in the apartment of her sister with her husband. The husband worked at the plant, and she drove the tram. Once again, the husband in the foundry shop got injury - he burned his face and hand, so that the skin on his face burned hard, and only one eye remained. The hand is generally amputated. Medicine did everything that could at that time, but a young man was crippled for life, and, as they say, "Roof left." He began to drink, he broke his wife, because he was pretty, and he turned into a monster. He loved him, no matter what, sorry. When Bil, it happened, from the apartment I was running out, but always returned. And once, when he was very worse, the unfortunate girl escaped from the house and hidden until the morning of the sister, the hopes of Pavlovna, that is, in our apartment. Before the dawn, the husband beat a plate, broke the furniture, knocked at the door of the apartment of hope, but she did not open, and the sister punished, so that she sat quietly. In the morning, Baba Nadia went to work, and her sister returned to his home to her husband. When hope came home to dine, I saw a fire car, an ambulance and militia "Bobik" near the entrance. It turned out that the son-in-law was tied to his wife, cut her face and chest to her with a knife, and then tied to the battery and speech apartment. Both spouses died. After that case, an old brown door was put on the apartment, donated by someone from the neighbors, but soon the tenants on the staircase began to complain that, they say, at night she tahatitis and slaps from draft, and in Broken windows put a glass, and where the brass was not enough - the children's lobster knocked back to the frame. The passage so as not to blow and Gari did not stink, laid bricks. The apartment was not twenty years old. Having heard the story of the grandmother, the young district was laughing, and the investigator with a deliberately serious view said: "Let's understand." I spent servants of law enforcement to the door, left all our guests, except for Baba Nadi. I closed the door and the edge of the eye saw the hostess of the apartment in the kitchen, heard that she quietly says to someone: "Well, you ... quieter, quieter ... everything ended. Soon and I will come to you ... ". Nadezhda Pavlovna noticed me and sadly smiled, letting themselves home (she lived somewhere in the private sector). "You will not take the fees if you go to the feet," the woman Nadya told us on a farewell to stop. Returning to the apartment, I noticed on the rug in the corridor oblong black spots. I looked, and realized that these are traces of bare feet somewhere 36 sizes. I was bad. The next day, we moved from that apartment, and in her almost immediately my companion on old work was drove. Then he told that he also heard outside the door on the staircase sob, and behind the wall of the rustles, blows and dissatisfied grumbling. Only when he was informed about the death of Baba Nadi, sobbies stopped, as well as outsided sounds behind the wall. And the apartment with a brown door was bought under some kind of office ... xxxxx