Mr. Eric

I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the old table. My disappointment knew no bounds.

"Mom... Are we supposed to live here?" I groaned.

"Daughter, you can see for yourself that things aren't going well for us. You know our situation. I've had enough of your whining!" Mom stated categorically.

That was the day we moved here. From then on, my mother, Marta, my sister, Ewa, and I were to live in a tiny, two-room apartment. It looked quite bearable. The main thing was that the entire building was dilapidated, graffiti-splattered, and dirty. The stairwell was awful—the stairs were practically falling apart, and it smelled musty and dirty.

"I wonder what kind of lovely neighbors we'll have," I remarked sarcastically.

Mom didn't say anything.

I think the whole situation was mainly my father's fault. He divorced my mother and kicked us out of the house. Well, maybe I shouldn't have said that, because it was probably Mommy who didn't want to be with him. I didn't understand at all why he had to live in our house and we in that awful apartment. But our dear Mommy didn't want to talk about it at all.

At that moment, the door opened and my sister walked in.

"Let me tell you something about the neighbors! I just found out that some shady character lives here – Eryk Kostecki. Apparently, he brings prostitutes over every night. Well, you know what that means." She announced loudly.

Mom paled.

"Honey, do you know where he lives?" she asked with obvious concern.

"Below us." She stated, as if nothing had happened, "Marta.

" "Well, we've moved in..." I began.

"Agnieszka, stop it! I'm really fed up with everything! We'll wait and see. We can always move!" Mom shouted.

After a few days, we realized I was right. Mr. Eryk was very tall, with black eyes and hair. Whenever I saw him on the stairs, he had a disgruntled expression and a scowl. He never spoke to anyone. He was always dirty and reeked of alcohol.

One day, when my mother asked the caretaker about him, he said,

"Mr. Eryk is what he is, we all know that, but there's really no basis for evicting him. After all, they have nothing on him, and he pays rent.

" "In what sense, they have nothing on him? Besides, how does he pay if he drinks all day and still has enough money to buy whores?" she asked, irritated and concerned.

The caretaker was visibly confused.

"Well, you see... strange things have been happening lately. Several of Mr. Eryk's clients have simply disappeared. It just so happens that he was always the last person to see them alive. But our wonderful police found no evidence against him," he said with difficulty.

"Were there any witnesses?" she asked.

"Those women were only seen entering his apartment. But Mr. Eryk always said they left before dawn. And it's hard to find witnesses at this time," the caretaker replied.

"It's a serious matter. I don't know if we'll stay here. This all looks worse than I imagined," she stated.

"We'll have to come up with something to deal with this man. There's no point in panicking and taking drastic measures right away." He said conciliatorily.

They said goodbye.

We've been here almost two weeks. I must admit, I feel uneasy here. Today, when I was coming back from school, I saw a policeman leaving Mr. Eryk's apartment. His expression betrayed that they hadn't made any progress in the investigation.

I was lying in bed, trying to sleep. Suddenly, I heard voices from downstairs. A woman's sensual moan. The woman was moaning and saying something. At one point, she started screaming. That was the first time I heard Mr. Eryk's low voice, slurred by the alcohol:

"Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch!" Get out of here quickly, before I change my mind! Try to say anything to the cops, and I'll do you so bad, you'll regret ever having your mother! He yelled.

"Fine," the woman sobbed.

She ran out of Eryk's apartment, slamming the door. Then she burst out of the building and onto the street. I looked out the window. She was running down the street. She was terrified, running with her head down.

Strangely enough, everyone in the house was asleep. I decided not to tell anyone. What difference would it make? The police would probably ignore the whole incident. Besides, they certainly wouldn't be discreet. In any case, I was absolutely certain – a murderer lived below us. But what exactly had happened there? Why had he thrown her out? Why had he told her to run before she changed her mind? I couldn't explain it.

My mother woke me up, screaming into the phone. I started listening:

"You... You... You idiot, you fool, you idiot! It's all your fault! We'll talk differently at the trial!" she screamed.

There was a moment of silence.

"Move! To you?! No! I'd rather live with this whole Kostecki thing!"

They argued for a while longer. Finally, Mom slammed the phone down.

"Mom. Iwona's having a birthday party today. We're going to a disco tonight. I hope you don't mind

," I said over breakfast. "No. Do you know what the agreement is?" she asked.

"But Mom! I'm an adult now! Can I come back at one?" I asked.

Our verbal agreement was that I was to be back at midnight.

"Fine. We'll do it this way – if you like it, you can call and say you're staying longer. We have to be careful. You know the situation," she said.

"Okay, sure. Will we take any action on this?" I asked.

"The caretaker was at the lawyer's yesterday. There's nothing we can do," she said with resignation.

We remained silent.

"Just please be careful at that disco and call," she said, trying desperately to hide her anxiety.

"Okay. Don't worry so much," I said.

Iwona came to my place at 6 p.m. She was actually celebrating her 18th birthday at home. But only her immediate family was there. This party was supposed to be just for us. We'd been friends forever. I don't even remember how we met. She was very attractive. Tall, slim, blue-eyed, and attracted many a guy.

We knew from the start that we were going to have a good time. We chatted, said goodbye to my parents and sister, and headed to the disco.

It was a large club, full of happy people. We started by ordering a beer and sitting in the corner of the room.

"I see you don't like your new apartment," she said.

I told her everything that had happened recently.

"Everyone's afraid of that guy. He lives on the second floor—below us." But the police have nothing on him, and the law won't allow him to be thrown out. I finally stated. "

I sympathize. And isn't your mother planning to move?" she asked, looking at me with unconcealed surprise.

"I don't know. She's wasting her money and the hassle of moving stuff. Besides, maybe she's hoping everything will work out somehow. She'd rather worry about us." I explained.

We changed the subject. We chatted about school, boys, plans, and various other things. Then we went dancing. We were getting drunker and drunker, moving from beer to cocktails. We drank, talked, and danced. Suddenly, three cheerful boys accosted us. Without asking, we joined them. Again: conversation, alcohol, and dancing. We were really tipsy. Suddenly, I looked at my watch.

"Oh, shit!" I shouted. "It's 12:55! My mother's going to kill me! Let's go!" It sounded rather incoherent.

"Okay." "Iwona stated reluctantly.

We said goodbye and went out into the street. The fresh air didn't make me feel any better. Honestly, I don't really remember how we got to the building. I don't know if it was because of my condition or what happened next.

"Come to my house. You'll sleep at my place and go back to your place in the morning," I said.

We staggered up the stairwell. Iwona kept tripping over her own feet and falling.

"Where did we go? I think this is it," she stated uncertainly.

"Don't you have to go up another floor, sweetie?" I asked with a laugh.

"Oh no. I was counting. This is it. We're going in," she said.

Before I could do or say anything, Iwona reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door gave way, and we stumbled inside, closing it behind us.

"What's going on here?" I heard a familiar, drunken voice.

My legs gave out from under me. I couldn't move. I'd never been so terrified. That sobered me up.

"We... We... We're sorry," I stammered.

Eryk burst out from behind the door. He rushed to the door and locked it, shouting,

"I'll fucking show you. You party at night and never go home! I'll teach you! I'll fucking deal with you properly. I'll teach you what it means to fuck off at my place at night!" He yelled, fixing us with an icy stare.

I felt we'd finally lost, that we had to flee immediately.

"Iwona! We're out!" I screamed wildly and ran.

Behind me, I heard a terrible commotion, but I didn't have time to turn around. Iwona started screaming. I hoped someone would hear and burst in. I couldn't make a sound myself. I opened a door and immediately closed it behind me. I was in a small, brightly lit room. There wasn't even a window. I noticed a wardrobe. Without thinking, I opened it. What I saw froze my blood. Jars with heads stood on the shelves. Dead, wide-open eyes seemed to be staring straight at me. Their faces were contorted with grimaces of terror and excruciating pain. There were probably a dozen of them, I didn't count them.

I screamed involuntarily and immediately closed the wardrobe. Weeping, I rushed to the door. Hundreds of thoughts raced through my mind. I thought it was the end, that I would never see anything beyond this apartment again. Despite my hopes, no one from the building showed up, no police arrived, simply nothing happened – just Eryk and us.

I heard Iwona's terrifying, muffled scream. I rushed to the next room. The only way out of this ghastly apartment was to jump out the window. The room I found myself in was probably the living room. I opened the window, and at that moment Eryk burst into the room.

"You were hiding here, babe! You want to play with me?! That's just like you!" He laughed mockingly.

I jumped onto the windowsill and jumped outside.

Then there was only darkness. Night enveloping everything.

I groaned. Someone was talking to me. I could barely see.

"You jumped out the window? Where from? Why?" The question hit me. "

Eryk... Eryk... Disco... He wanted to kill us... Iwona... Eryk... He's at Eryk's... Help... Help..." I muttered.

"I'll call the ambulance and the police right away," the woman said.

"I fainted again."

I regained consciousness in bed. My head hurt so badly, I felt so weak I couldn't even open my eyes. Besides, everything hurt.

"My daughter... Aguś... Can you hear me?" I heard my mother's voice from somewhere in the distance.

"Yes," I whispered.

I heard the sound of the machines they were hooking me up to. My mother was crying. She tried to stop, but she couldn't.

"My daughter... It's good you escaped. They suspect you had no other choice," she said through tears.

"Iwona... What about her? Did they find her? And Eryk?" I whispered.

"They're looking for them both. When the police burst into Eryk's apartment, no one was there. If you feel a little better, they'll question you." She said.

"Mom... Will I... Will I ever see her?" I asked, starting to cry.

She squeezed my hand.

"You can't lose hope. Maybe they'll finally succeed. Now sleep. When you feel better, you can help." She said.

The door opened, and someone entered the room.

"Agus, it's me. I'm here with mom," my dad said.

I didn't know what to say to him. After all, if we'd lived at home with him, this macabre story wouldn't have happened.

"Why were you crying? I'm alive, he didn't do anything to me," I whispered.

"That was so close." When I think about you going in there... You have a severe concussion, a broken arm, you've cut yourself badly and bruised yourself. I know you were drunk, didn't call, and went to the wrong floor, but that doesn't matter in this situation – the important thing is that you're alive. Now sleep," she said gently.

As soon as she finished speaking, I felt myself involuntarily falling asleep.

When I opened my eyes again, I felt better. I looked around. I was lying in some small room. I was still connected to all those monitors. There was no one in the room at the moment. It must have been evening.

My head still hurt terribly, my vision was blurry, my right arm was in a cast, and I had bandages on my back, arms, and legs.

The door opened, and a tall man walked in. I was startled, but the sight of the scrubs brought me back to reality.

"Hello. I see you're better now. You were very lucky. You only regained consciousness at 3 p.m. But jumping out of the window would be better than staying with that murderer." "He said, looking at me intently.

"So you know what happened?" I asked, surprised.

"How can I not know? The police told me some of it, your mom the rest. And anyway, half the city is talking about it. They haven't found your friend yet. Although they're still looking. But in this situation, even Rutkowski wouldn't have been able to do much. Okay, I think I've rambled on too much. Getting back to your condition – tomorrow morning you'll have another head X-ray, and they'll probably want to ask you a few questions for the investigation." He informed her animatedly.

"When will I be transferred to a regular ward?" I asked.

"When we're sure your condition is stable and nothing life-threatening will happen. For now, lie down, don't strain your eyes. You're not even allowed to read for a while," he said.

"Fine," I said with resignation.

"I have to go. See you later." He said, smiling.

"Goodbye," I replied.

As the doctor had promised, I was taken for an X-ray that morning. Fortunately, they found nothing wrong. As soon as I got to the room, two middle-aged women appeared.

"Hello. I'm from the police. This is our psychologist," one of them said.

She was a tall, well-built blonde with blue eyes.

The police psychologist was short and petite. She had brown eyes and black hair tied back in a bun.

"I'm sure you've been through a lot. We need to know a few things that will make the investigation easier. If you feel unwell, you can stop at any time," she said gently.

They sat down on chairs. I told them everything that had happened that fateful night.

"Can you explain something to me?" I asked.

"I'm listening," the policewoman said.

"Why didn't your technicians discover the cabinet of heads? Something must have happened to ordinary people for you to get to work properly?" It's... It's not even about me anymore, but... But Iwona... He definitely... – I spoke with increasing difficulty, until I finally burst into tears.

The psychologist sat down on the bed and grabbed my hand.

"Don't cry. I know it's hard for you. You have family, friends who will help you. You'll definitely need a psychologist's help. How long did you know her?" she asked.

"I don't... I don't remember... When we met... At least catch that bastard." I spoke through tears.

The women exchanged meaningful glances.

"Listen. That closet was perfectly hidden. When the technicians burst in, this room simply wasn't there. Eryk K. had a door that blended perfectly with the wall. We're doing everything to stop him.

" "Right," I said apathetically.

"We won't bother you any longer. Hang in there," the psychologist said.

They said goodbye and left.

The next few days were boring and gloomy. Friends, both close and distant family, came. I wasn't happy to see them. I didn't care about anything at all. I mostly slept.

At the end of the first week, I learned that Iwona's mutilated body had been found in the forest on national road 7. They pumped me full of sedatives that I felt like someone else was crying, like this whole tragedy had happened to someone else.

Two days later, they caught Eryk. When I found out, I had a fit of laughter and couldn't calm down. I thought I was going crazy. Besides, the others also thought I was very sick. I could hear their hushed conversations when they thought I couldn't hear. They sympathized with me and discussed whether and when I would be able to cope with what had happened and with the loss of Iwona.

After two weeks, I was discharged home.

I testified in court as a witness, our parents reconciled, and I underwent a year of psychiatric therapy. Ultimately, Eryk K. received a life sentence with the possibility of parole after 30 years. Despite this, I believe everything changed that tragic night, and things will never be the same again. I feel like I lost a part of myself then. All it took was a little more police effort and a little common sense on our part, and perhaps the events described would have been prevented.