Every Night I Watch People Go Into My Neighbor's House

 

I first noticed when I was in my kitchen at 3 a.m., getting a glass of water. I suffer from insomnia, so I’m often up at that time, wandering around my house aimlessly. I live alone, so the only person this bothers is myself. 

I heard a car door shut and saw my neighbor across the street going inside his house, followed by two girls wearing sequined dresses and strappy heels. This wasn’t suspicious in and of itself; From the few neighborhood interactions I’d had with my neighbor, I knew he enjoyed clubbing. I just figured he’d gotten lucky tonight. 

I finished my glass of water and watched my neighbor’s lights turn on. His curtains were drawn, so I chuckled and muttered, “Have a good time, man.” I turned away, and retreated to my living room, watching T.V. until the sun came up. It felt as though I had dozed off, though I doubted I was so lucky, when, through my living room front window, I saw my neighbor get into his car, alone, and pull out of his driveway. I frowned. Where were the girls from the night before? I supposed I must have missed it when they left. Maybe they took a cab. Or maybe they were sleeping in. It was only 7:30 a.m. after all, and they’d been up late. 

I rubbed my eyes. I really wished that I’d been able to sleep, but at this point I was used to the disappointment. I looked out the window at my neighbor’s still house. Morning fog sat heavy over the houses on the street. All the curtains were still drawn, at least on the front-facing windows. 

I drank coffee facing the house across the street, but by the time evening rolled around, my neighbor had returned home, and nobody had left.

Initially, I shrugged it off. It was possible I’d missed it, anyway, and I didn’t really care about my neighbor enough to investigate further. 

It was a few nights later, however, when I noticed it happening again. 

This time, it was a man, wearing a t-shirt and bedazzled jeans. They seemed to be laughing about something. My neighbor once again led him to the front door, and they retreated inside. The curtains remained drawn. 

I kept an eye on the house again, in my hazy insomniac state, but again, did not see the man leave. 

Was this cause for alarm, I wondered? Surely, the guests were leaving, and I was just missing it. 

Every night from then on was the same. My neighbor escorted scantily-clad guests (sometimes women, sometimes men, sometimes both, or more than one) into his home, and kept the curtains shut. I never saw anyone leave. 

I began to question my sanity. I had considered contacting the police, but had absolutely no proof that my neighbor was doing anything wrong. Plus, the word of a frazzled insomniac was probably not one to take very seriously. I could barely take myself seriously.

Even so, I watched every night. I lost count of how many he’d now brought home, but I’d guess it was nearing thirty. He was a busy man. 

It came to the point where I sat crouched at my living room window, staring out across the street illuminated by the streetlamps. Every night without fail, at around 3 a.m., my neighbor pulled into his driveway and brought home more guests. 

It was a whole month later, and I still hadn’t seen any of them leave. I tried to see what he was up to, but his curtains stubbornly remained closed. I could often see a faint glow from behind them, suggesting that there was a light on somewhere in the house. But I could see no silhouettes. The only time I saw his guests was between his car and his front door. 

 Eventually, it began driving me crazy. If I wasn’t sleeping before, I sure as hell wasn’t now. I began to devise a plan. 

I knew that my neighbor was often gone all day until late at night. So at 9 p.m., once it was dark, I snuck across the street, hunched over. Like some kind of amateur investigator, I wore a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled over my head. 

I crept to the edge of his lawn, keeping an eye out for any other neighbors or passersby, but saw no one. 

I moved to the corner of the house, trying to see in through the window, but to no avail. I decided to move to the back of the house, to see if I could get a better look. I hopped a small fence and faced the house. It was very dark back there, the streetlights barely reaching it, and there were no lights on inside the house.

No matter, I had prepared for this. I pulled a small flashlight out of my pocket and flicked it on. I shined it at the quiet house. 

It seemed most of the blinds were closed on the backside of the house as well, I saw with disappointment. But… maybe I could still find something?

I approached the back door carefully, and shined my light at it. I was happy to see that there was no curtain on the door’s window. I got closer, basically pressing my nose against the glass. I could only see an empty hallway, and the living room beyond that. There was no movement.

I was about to give up when my flashlight caught the glimmer of something in my neighbor’s living room. Behind the couch. I squinted, and quickly realized it was a single high-heeled shoe, adorned with crystals. 

Who would leave a shoe? Another article of clothing, perhaps a jacket, was plausible, but a shoe? You wouldn’t get far without realizing it was gone…

I shined my light around the hallway, hoping for another piece of the puzzle, but was unable to see anything. 

Almost without thinking about it, I put my hand on the doorknob. To my shock, it was unlocked. 

I hesitated. I could get in real trouble for this. I could go to jail. This was breaking and entering. Or maybe just entering. At the very least, I was already trespassing. 

I opened the door anyway. 

I entered the house, noticing it felt oldly cold for this time of year. I tiptoed down the hallway, feeling rather thrilled. I’d never broken the law before. Unless you counted smoking weed in high school.

I went to the living room and looked at the shoe up close. It seemed it had been tossed aside. Perhaps in a passionate way?

I moved to the kitchen, but found nothing suspicious there. My neighbor’s house was oddly clean.

I headed upstairs to the bedrooms, still trying to be as cautious as I could. The first bedroom, his bedroom, I assumed, was tidy. His clothes were neatly folded, and his bed was made. I saw no signs of another person. The shoe downstairs was really the only proof I had of the people I’d seen. 

Until I reached the spare room. It felt even colder than the other rooms when I entered it, and I shivered. At first, it seemed fairly ordinary, a simple storage room. But when I approached one of the shelves, I recognized a sequined top. And bedazzled jeans. And many other articles of clothing that I recognized. A large jug of some sort of dark liquid stood on one of the shelves, along with several books in languages I did not understand. I saw a hammer leaned against the craft table.

I gasped softly. What did this mean?

Was he killing them, or what? 

It was then that I heard a car pull into the driveway. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. 

What should I do? Run? Could I run without him seeing me? 

I switched off my flashlight and peaked outside. I could see that he was in the driveway, chatting with some other doomed guest. 

I rushed down the stairs, and headed for the back door. I had just closed it behind me when I heard the front door open. I crouched down, panting heavily. I could hear their muffled voices talking. 

I quickly went around the side of the house, to go back over the fence, now thankful the blinds were closed. I stumbled over some fresh dirt, but didn’t dare turn back to find out if it was a garden or something more sinister.

I leapt over the fence, and ran full-out back to my house. 

I didn’t look back at my neighbor’s house until I had locked my own door behind me. I went to my living room and watched his house, adrenaline pumping through me. I could see a light was on now, and I wondered what he was doing. I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling this guest would not be leaving in the morning. 

Night after night, I watch the neighbor’s house, and the endless stream of men and women he brings home. I still consider calling the police. I might do it, and claim I saw something from my house. Or heard something. I can’t help but wonder, would they come back out, after they searched the house? I think I may have been lucky in my escape. I was able to leave. I think my neighbor’s other guests are not so fortunate.