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When I Get Drunk I Just Cry And Fall Asleep… In My Own Bed

, , , , , , | Legal | April 24, 2022

CONTENT WARNING: Assault

 

I live in an apartment near downtown. Some apartment buildings open onto some sort of communal hall or space. Mine opens onto the street.

I had a final in the morning at 7:00 am, so I went to bed early, around 8:00 pm. At around 2:00 am, I was awoken by a pounding on the door. A voice called out:

Stranger #1: “Dan, let me in! We lost the d*** keys!”

Or perhaps he was calling out,”‘D***, let me in! We lost the d*** keys!”

As my name is not Dan, I gave a simple reply.

Me: “F*** off.”

There was absolute silence for a few moments, and I attempted to go back to sleep. Then, there was a loud slam, followed by two more. At the fourth slam, my door was broken open, flinging woodchips across the small space of my apartment.

Three drunken guys barged in and one of them pointed at me and shouted:

Stranger #2: “Thief!”

They bumrushed my bed, grabbed me, stripped the blankets off of me, and dumped me outside the house. I utterly failed to defend myself, mostly managing only to flail and scream incoherently.

After they hustled me out, they latched the bar on the door, locking me out. I probably should have latched the bar in the first place, I belatedly think, as if I had, at the very least, they wouldn’t have been able to lock me out — not that I felt at all safe physically confronting them.

I was topless in only my bottom underwear. I had no phone and no shoes, and it wasn’t warm outside. The only good thing was that hardly anyone was out, as it was so late at night.

I made my way to the police department, out by the rec center. Fortunately, the night staff let me in. They gave me a department T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants so I felt less naked.

It then took them nearly four hours to confirm my identity, to confirm that I actually was the leaser of the apartment, and to get their ducks in a row. I spent most of that time alternatively moping and sleeping on a bench in the station.

They then broke down my door a second, more complete, time and arrested the three fellows who were still passed out in MY bed and on my couch.

After such a long morning, I wanted nothing more to pass out on my bed, but my bed and couch now smelled of gross boozy boy body odor and I just couldn’t. I wound up going to school and sleeping in the student lounge.

On my way to pass out, I got in touch with my professor and rescheduled my final. He was very understanding.

After I got back, I started determining what had actually happened. They’d gone through my stuff and scattered it everywhere. Everything stunk of them. I have a very sensitive nose and it was very difficult to deal with. I rented a carpet steamer and steamed my apartment to get the smell out.

Some of my clothing was also wrecked like they’d tried to put it on or something and ripped it. It was mercifully little, but the stuff that was damaged was my nicest stuff — really frilly and lacy stuff. I was into Elegant Gothic Lolita at the time.

They also took the graphics card out of my computer for some reason and left it sitting on the table? It still worked. I don’t understand why they did that.

Sorting out my stuff actually took a few weeks, partly because it was mentally taxing and emotionally difficult, and partly because some of the stuff they’d done was hidden.

With the help of the police, I pressed charges and took them to court.

This upset the three boys. It turned out that they lived in a different unit in the same building as me. I’d never met them before.

Since we lived in the same building, they started mocking me and making rude and threatening comments. They kept demanding I just drop it, and calling me a busybody who didn’t know how to have fun.

Once, one of them hit me. It didn’t leave a mark, and the judge refused to admit it as evidence. But it was enough that the police started stationing an officer near the building to keep an eye on things.

Despite my pleas to send them to jail, the judge said, “Boys will be boys,” and gave them community service. He seemed impressed that one of them was an engineer, one was studying corporate law, and the third was in the journalism program. He said they were “bright boys with a good future in front of them” and he didn’t want to ruin that.

Odd that he didn’t care that I — also was a bright individual with a good future in front of me — was now living in fear in the same building as three people who drunkenly assaulted me.

The apartment complex charged me for the damages to the door, and the things the boys damaged. I took the three boys to small claims court, and they were held jointly and severably liable for the damages, including the ones to my personal property, but they refused to pay up, choosing instead to leave the state. They didn’t even complete their community service program before they up and vanished.

This story does have a happy ending. I graduated, got my degree, and left the city, never to return.

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