When life gives you lemons, you suck on it until you die. Sadly, I'm still sucking on them.
My life had been great. Perfect even. The day I met Alicia, my wife, my life changed. She made me
whole. She was an addition to my completion. I loved her with all my heart. And after two years
of blissful marriage and finally trying for our first kid, she found out she had cervical cancer.
Everything went to shit after that. We thought it would get better, but things got worse.
I was going to lose her. I was going to lose my heart. And it shattered me to know that I had
to watch her slowly die every day. Seven short years of marriage and nothing but memories to show for
it. Nothing to bind our love. Nothing to show that she once existed in this cruel world.
The day she died, it rained heavy as fuck. Even the sky in the heavens above knew it was a tragic
day. I couldn't even make it home that day. I stayed in my vehicle and then rented a hotel for
three days until her funeral. The funeral was quick. I held it at a church and then cremated her.
Never had my life felt so gray, dull, empty. Alicia was all I had and she left me. The neighbors came,
of course. They offered their support and told me everything would be okay. But they didn't know.
They had no idea how much I loved this woman. Everything would not be fine.
The last two years had been harder without her and it still is. And every year around her
birthday and our anniversary, it worsens. It reminds me of what I've lost. There's no meaning
to life anymore. What is the sense of going out there? Why should I be enjoying life when she is
dead? When she can no longer enjoy it with me. Everyone is happy, laughing and going about their
business in this world, in this neighboring community. It makes me sick to my stomach.
And as if the chaos couldn't escalate further, a new neighbor moved in next door.
The house had been vacant for over a year. And quite frankly, it was the only thing that helped my
mood. Knowing that there wasn't another nosy neighbor trying to make things better for me.
But like flies to garbage, the residents in the community flocked to their front steps and greeted
them. They can be so pathetic, groveling to a total stranger or pretending to care. I've known them
for years and I can certify that 80% don't give a fuck about a newbie. As for my new next door
neighbor, I hadn't gotten around to see who she was. I'd caught glimpses of her in her bathroom
over my balcony. But the view was not as clear with her sheer curtains. Besides, I didn't want
to be a fucking creep. It would also be a disgrace to Alicia. However, everything changed within the
blink of an eye. Like, literally. A week after moving in, the bold shit decided to play a good
neighbor. I was pretty sure everyone told her about me so why the fuck was she standing at
my door ringing my goddamn bell? And when I thought she had left because I never bothered to answer,
I saw her on the camera again and this time she took a seat on my swing. On Alicia's fucking swing.
But the rage that consumed me enough to throw this woman off my property
instantly dissipated when I opened the door. I didn't know how to explain it or figure out
what the hell it was. But all I knew was that she... she looked like Alicia. Well, not totally,
but she had an uncanny resemblance. Like a doppelganger. The fuck? I couldn't even find the
words I planned to tell her about sitting on the swing. It was as if there was a divine
intervention or something. The woman looked up at me just as confused. And when I didn't think she
would say anything, she introduced herself. Freya Somerset. Then she handed me bread. It had been
packaged in a brown bag with doodle drawings with different colored markers. Life must have
decided to fuck me over again because Alicia loved to bake and she'd been an artist.
Was Freya her reincarnation? It could have never been.
As she rambled on about her boyfriend and other nonsensical stuff, I just stared in awe.
She'd looked so much like Alicia, down to her bow-shaped lips. Seeing Freya and having her
remind me so much of Alicia were emotions I wasn't ready to face.
Here I was standing in front of my wife's replica and having thoughts about how many
times we used to kiss and the beautiful things she did with that wicked mouth of hers.
How I used to kiss the small mole on her neck. The similar kind of mole Freya had on her lower
chin. Whatever scheme the devil was concocting against me was working. Because this woman
had sparked a fire within me. One that I had long lost after my wife's death.
I grabbed the bread and closed the door. I didn't want to get caught up. I didn't want to experience
the emotions she had just stirred in me. But after that day, I was never the same.
A day after our encounter we had a really windy day. So windy that one of my balcony
chairs had toppled over and my potted plant had broken. When I'd gone to sea to it, Freya's window
had been open as usual. But the curtains had blown apart. It was much easier to see her in the bathroom.
Freya had returned from work and entered the room in her bath towel. I still wanted to believe that
all of this was unreal. And it was the fates fucking with me. But this was reality. I knew I
should have turned away. That I should have tended to my plant and headed back inside. But I didn't.
She reminded me so much of Alicia. And I didn't want to go another second without seeing my
wife's face in living flesh. But to be fair, when she loosened her towel I turned away.
I went back to tending to my plant and headed inside. I had never used my balcony before.
But ever since I knew I could catch a secret glimpse of the woman who resembled my wife,
I made it a customary thing. And day after day I would sit on the balcony until she got home
from work and get into the bath. I would take a few glimpses of her and head back inside.
Not once had I been pervy enough to view her naked. I'm not that kind of guy.
Seeing Alicia, Freya, is only for comfort. And it's the only way I can do this without being
socially awkward. Honestly, I believed I could get away with it. That I could sneak a glance at her
and then disappear. However, it seems that all actions done in secrecy are eventually brought
to light. Last Wednesday night, Freya caught me staring at her. I thought it was going to turn
into a shit show. And she would call the police. And I'd go to jail for being the total pervert ever.
But it was nothing like that. Freya had looked at me looking at her and stood there for a few
seconds. She then dropped her towel and stepped into the bath. It was as if nothing had transpired
between us. I knew then that I should have gone back inside. That what she did should have been a
red flag for me to stay away. But I just couldn't. I couldn't pull myself away from watching her take
a bath, soaking in the sudsy tub. It was as if she wanted me to see her. It continued like that for
almost every night except the weekends when her boyfriend visited. I'd sunk into a new lie where
I thought this was okay. Where I'd become addicted to seeing her. And then knowing that she knows
that I'm watching her and she doesn't give a damn, had done something to me. How was this normal?
To this day, I'm sick of my decision. My wife is probably looking down at me and appalled by my
behavior. But I'll be damned if I don't catch a glimpse of her at least five times a week.
Freya has become a drug, an opioid for my pain, an ecstasy to make me forget what I lost. Getting
out on a balcony and watching Freya have a bath has become a new norm for us. She alerts me by
flickering her lights on and off twice. This whole idea is disturbing. But it's just how it is now.
Now it's Saturday. And while I'm folding clothes in my bedroom, the lights at her house flicker
twice. I'm shocked. So stunned that I drift onto my balcony like a moth to a fucking flame.
Seeing Freya is addictive. It's nearly something I can't resist. Nevertheless, the last thing I
intend to do is disrupt someone else's relationship. Mine had been perfect, and I would have fought tooth
and nail to make sure that Alicia didn't have a reason to leave. I move to the lounge chair on
the balcony to see what the flickering is about. It's more of a safety check to make sure she is
okay. And she is okay. I'm about to return to my room when Freya moves to the window and spreads
the curtains the widest it has ever been. Whatever game she's playing, I'm all in. I'm no longer
Mr. Nice Guy because ever since Wednesday, I'd lost the opportunity to see her. So I'll take
whatever the fuck I get tonight. Despite her boyfriend staying the weekend at her place,
Freya has found the time to see me. No, to let me see her. Tonight is going to be different.
I can feel it. And now that I can see all of her, it's doing something to me.
She plays with the tie of her robe and then loosens it. A breath escapes me when the
robe slides to the floor. This is the first time I've truly seen her naked. Every other time was
vague shapes and illusions through a sheer curtain. But now, now it's the real deal.
She is stunning. So gorgeous that I can't tear my eyes from her. I sit on the balcony chair and
scoot it to the edge of the railing. She is fondling herself and it's surreal. My cock is hard,
so fucking hard and it's the hardest it has ever been in a long time. The moment she dropped the
robe, I should have headed back inside. I should have moved away because this was not what I wanted.
But there was this urge to stay, to watch, to feel. Freya spreads her legs and drags her fingers
between her thighs. This is wrong. This is sick. I shouldn't be watching her. I shouldn't be tarnishing
my wife's memories like this. But it's fucking painful not to look away. She reminds me so much
of my wife, but yet she's different in her way. I slip my cock out from my boxers like the fucking
pervert I am. It's the first time I'm doing this. It's the first time I'm letting my emotions rule me.
And right now I don't care. I know she can see me. And it may not be perfect vision because my
balcony is dark, but my mere presence is enough for her to enjoy rubbing herself. Freya lifts her
fingers and spreads them. She's wet. Fucking wet. I'm pounding my dick so hard that it's probably
going to bruise from lack of use. However, the feeling she's invoking inside me is nothing
compared to the consequences. And when she dips her fingers inside her pussy again, it sends me
into a tizzy. I stand, peeling my boxers off and freeing my cock. I want her to see. I want her
to know what she's doing to me, how I'm breaking every rule and moral compass to please her.
As I pound my dick, she's fingers deep into her wet cunt. I'm on the edge. And having her stare
aimlessly through the window while getting off on me is not helping either. Freya turns around,
seeming agitated. Then she scrambles for her robe as she peers at the door. Fuck. Her boyfriend.
I can hear him banging on the door like some deranged idiot. She composes herself and finally
opens it, but he bursts in like a maniac. Her boyfriend is livid, pointing his fingers in her
face and looking around. Somehow I just want to get down there and punch that fucker in his face.
He has no reason to be touching and yelling at her like that. His anger escalates to the
point where he's smelling her fucking hands. Then suddenly he walks to the window and looks up,
spotting me. Fuck. I pull up my pants, ready to head back inside because this no longer concerns me,
but something tells me to stay. Then this man points at me. And before I can blink again,
he slaps her about the face. What the fuck? Shit. He shoves her onto the wall. Damn it.
If I don't get my ass over there right now, he's going to do much worse. As I make my way downstairs,
all I can envision is her lifeless body being kicked in the stomach. I retrieve her keys from
beneath a potted plant and unlock the front door. And without thinking about the legalities of what
I'd just done, I head upstairs and look for the door facing my balcony. Blood. Fucking blood.
I launch at the guy with my body slamming him to the floor. This has just gotten personal.
I ram my fist in the fucker's face enough times that he's out cold like a motherfucker.
Then I remember Freya. I turn to see her lifeless body on the floor. I can't wait. I can't even
think about doing more harm than good by touching her. I take her up in my arms and run downstairs,
straight onto the pavement. Then, without thinking, I yell at the top of my lungs.
I shouldn't be here. I have no reason to be here.
Sitting at her bedside at the hospital is the last thing I should be doing.
I don't know this woman, and she doesn't know me. But yet I find myself lying to the
doctors stating that I'm her relative. What is going on with me? A month ago, I hated people.
Interacting with one person was a chore. Now I'm sitting at the bedside of my neighbor,
without the will to leave her like this. She has no one. Well, that's what I believe.
The only person listed as her emergency contact is the fucked hard who did this to her. Somehow,
I'm compelled to stay. But it's like being with Alicia all over again. Not knowing when she would
die or if she would ever recover. It feels like deja vu. It feels so fucking real. It's been two
days and Freya hasn't woken fully. The doctor says she's stable, but she has a concussion.
However, she's in and out of it because of the meds. I stand to go get a refill of my coffee in
the hallway. When I hear a bit of rustling, I turn to see her eyes fluttering open. Nothing prepared
me for the joy I felt seeing her open her eyes and moving her head. This woman has no idea how
much she has grown on me. How much she has influenced the last 48 hours. I approach her bedside and as
she slowly looks up, I'm uncertain of what thoughts might be crossing her mind. Her face is void of
expression. I'll go get the doctor, I say. No. Wait. She whispers. How are you feeling? Are you okay?
She nods, but deep down I know she's aching all over. That bastard did a number on her. Her ribs
are bruised and her eyes are all bluish black. Why are you here? She croaks out. The question shoots
me right through the heart, but she's right. Why the fuck am I here? I'm sorry, I'll go.
No. She reaches for my hand. Stay. I'm glad you're here. You... you saved me.
I did what anyone would have done. Better not to give her any false ideas. Freya turns her head
facing the window. Where is he? My face crumples with anger. I still can't believe after everything
that Prick did to her she's still asking about him. He's where he's supposed to be. In jail.
Jail? She repeats. And now this is where it gets rough. I take a seat next to her. Freya,
there's something I need to tell you. She wintzes as she tries to sit upright. No, wait. You need
to see the doctor first. What? What is it? She wintzes again. What do you have to tell me?
There's no easy way to put it, but I would prefer if she sees the doctor before I discuss
anything with her. I stand. I'll call the doctor. Alex. By the time the doctor is finished checking
with her, Freya is uneasy. Even while the doctor was carrying out his tests, she kept dying me.
And now that the doctor is gone, there's an elephant in the room. Days ago, I'd been watching
her play with herself. Days ago, I'd been getting off of her pleasure. Now we are staring at each
other like the strangers we are. Why is Caleb in jail? Did you call the police?
Why are you so concerned about that asshole who put you in the hospital?
Because when he gets out of jail, he's going to come and finish me off for putting him in there.
Annoyance fills me. Not on my fucking watch. She exhales a sharp breath. Then she shakes her head.
You have no idea what he's capable of.
Let me worry about that, I say, before taking a deep breath. There's also something you need to know.
Freya squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and inhales.
Just tell me already.
Your house is gone, Freya. She eyes me with confusion.
What?
It's gone. Your boyfriend burned it to the ground.