Chapter 3: The Reckoning Upstairs
Outside the building, the place was buzzing. Neighbors from upstairs and down had all come out. They were already gossiping.
They clustered in little knots, whispering behind their hands, eyes darting from me to the spot where my sister died. I could hear their words, sharp and careless, slicing through the morning air.
“Such a pity. A young woman, just jumped like that.”
Their voices were hushed, but not kind. I could feel their eyes on me, judging, pitying, already spinning their own stories.
“I know, and with her little boy too.”
The words made my stomach twist. They talked about my family like we were characters in a soap opera, not real people with real pain.
“Yeah, poor kid, so innocent.”
I shot a vicious glare at the gossipy woman, and she instantly shrank back, falling silent.
She looked away, embarrassed. I hoped she’d remember that look the next time she opened her mouth.
I pushed through the crowd.
I didn’t care who I bumped or shoved. I was done listening to their nonsense. I had work to do.
“Innocent? My sister was innocent! Has anyone spared a thought for her? Some lives are doomed from the moment they begin.”
My voice rang out, cutting through their chatter. For a moment, the whole block went silent. I let the words hang, then walked away, leaving them to stew in their guilt.
With that, I gripped the wrench and got in the elevator.
The ride up felt endless. I stared at my reflection in the metal doors, barely recognizing the man staring back. My eyes were red, my face streaked with tears and dirt. But my grip on the wrench was steady.
I stood quietly at the old woman’s door, listening to the noise inside.
The voices were loud, careless, full of ugly laughter. I pressed my ear to the wood, heart pounding, waiting for my moment.
“Son, you think your brother-in-law knows something?”
Her tone was dismissive, like I was a minor inconvenience. I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to burst in right then.
A careless male voice replied, “So what if he does? His sister’s dead. What’s he gonna do to me? Besides, she killed herself. That bitch wanted to die.”
Their words were poison. I could feel my blood boiling, my hands tightening around the wrench. I forced myself to wait.
The old woman went on, “That may be, but now that your wife’s dead, what about your gambling debts?”
She was all business, already moving on to the next problem. My sister’s death was just another line item on her list.
“Don’t worry. I’ll call everyone over. Maybe someone out there wants a dead wife!”
He laughed, the sound cold and empty. I clenched my jaw, breathing hard through my nose, trying to stay calm.
Outside, my fists clenched. But hearing he was calling all his poker buddies over, I forced myself to hold back. Good. Let’s settle this all at once.
I leaned against the wall, counting my breaths. I wanted them all in one place. I wanted them to see what happens when you push someone too far.
As they made calls inside, I slipped back to the stairwell, cracked open a window, and kept watch for any suspicious people coming and going.
The night air was cool against my face. I watched the street below, every muscle tense, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Hardcore gamblers are easy to spot—shifty, always glancing around.
I watched for the telltale signs—nervous glances, hands shoved deep in pockets, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne. It didn’t take long.
Soon, headlights flashed in the distance. An old SUV pulled up. Four men got out, laughing and joking as they walked past the spot where my sister died—completely unfazed.
Their laughter grated on my nerves. They didn’t even pause, didn’t even look down. Just another night, another game, another life ruined.
I listened to the elevator rise. After the door closed, I crept out of the stairwell and took out a key. I’d taken it from my sister’s pocket earlier, not knowing why, just stuffing it in my own. I never expected it would come in handy now.
The key was cold and heavy in my hand. I turned it over, thinking of all the times my sister had used it, all the times she’d come home late, tiptoeing past her in-laws’ door.
Just as I was about to unlock the door, a rough male voice sounded from inside.
I froze, listening, my heart pounding in my chest. The voices were close—too close.
“What’s taking Mike so long? Still not here?”
His tone was impatient, like he couldn’t wait to get the game started. I gripped the key tighter, ready to move.
“Just wait, he’ll be here soon.”
Another voice, bored and dismissive. I could picture them sprawled on the couch, drinks in hand, not a care in the world.
Yeah, just wait. I’ll take you all down together.
I whispered the words to myself, steeling my nerves. This was it.
A sleazy voice chimed in, “Such a shame. That woman—her figure, her looks… damn, you don’t see that every day.”
My skin crawled. I wanted to smash the door down right then, but I forced myself to wait, to listen, to remember every word.
My brother-in-law answered, “Right? She wasn’t just pretty, her voice was amazing, too. Heard she was a top student, just unlucky enough to have a gambling addict for a dad.”
He sounded almost proud, as if my sister’s suffering was a joke to him. I bit my lip, drawing blood, anything to keep from screaming.
“And a gambling addict for a husband! Otherwise, we wouldn’t have gotten so lucky!”
They all burst out laughing, but suddenly, the room fell quiet. Someone whispered, “Hey, whose kid do you think it was?”
Their laughter died, replaced by low, ugly whispers. I pressed my ear to the door, barely breathing.
“Who knows—could be yours, could be his, anyone’s!”
That was it. The last straw. My vision went black around the edges, rage filling every inch of me.
At that, rage consumed me. Without thinking, I flung open the door and stormed in, blocking out even the blaring horns from the street below.
The door crashed against the wall. I stepped inside, wrench raised, ready to face them all. The world narrowed to a single point—me, them, and the justice I was about to deliver.
No one was laughing now.













