Welcome to Chapter XI of my novella ‘Peeved’ releasing chapter by chapter! You don’t need to read the previous chapters to know what’s happening in this story, but if you’re interested I’ll put the link to them at the bottom.
Recap
The plan was simple: Speak my mind, fix the world.
My quest:
Number 1:Cut out the baggage in my lifeNumber 2:Make my quiet carriage always quiet- Number 3: Start a revolt at Alliance that forces management to change the company culture
- Number 4: Stop my noisy neighbours from partying late at night.
- Number 5: Make Samuel the laughing stock of the company
- Number 6: Make all the carriages on my train peaceful
If I pull it off, maybe people would stop seeing me as just a little Indian geek they could slap around.
Weekends were meant for Number 4: Stopping my noisy neighbours from partying late at night. Christmas morning, I called the cops on my downstairs neighbours. Calm lasted for 2 seconds before the music and laughing came back, louder and more obnoxious than ever. Merry Fucking Christmas.
Who the fuck did these guys think they were?
I was ready to punch a wall.
I took a deep breath and decided if I should call the police again or go down there and tell them off myself.
Making up my mind, I trudged out to the elevator and hit the button to go down. When I entered the elevator there was already someone inside.
To say this man was tired was an understatement. The man had a satchel hung over shoulder and looked like he had slept in his clothes. His eyes were sunken and he had a haunted stare, you could tell all he was thinking about was figuring out when he would be in bed next.
‘Rough night?’ I asked.
The man yawned, ‘Those guys kept me up all night.’
‘Shit, you heard them too?’
‘Yeah… I’m not from the building. I was crashing over at a mate’s place for Christmas, but I haven’t had a wink.’
‘Sorry, man…’
He had a tired grin that said what can you do?
The elevator doors opened when we reached the ground floor. The man exited, ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas.’
I stood in the elevator stewing. That guy’s Christmas was probably destroyed now and it was ALL Unit 4’s fault! A fresh swell of rage coursed through my veins.
There wasn’t going to be any sneaking around this time. I hit the button for Level 1.
When the elevator reached the floor, I burst out of the opening doors. I came to a halt before I reached the apartment. To my horror the door for Unit 4 opened and out came a behemoth of a man.
My fleeting bravery was replaced with my familiar cowardice. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
He was a huge Polynesian man. I’m telling you, when they made this guy, they literally broke the mould.
His arms were as big as my torso. He had long curly hair that ran down his back, and he was well over six and a half feet tall because he had to crouch to get under the doorway. His face resembled an American Pitbull with fierce eyes, and when I gave him a curt nod he gave me a smile, showcasing his sharp canine teeth.
I had a feeling he was Deep Voice. His mate was probably the squawking galah.
Every confrontation I’d won flashed through my mind–the slow pedestrian, the escalator hogs, Samuel Chen, even Teresa on the phone. But they were all… manageable. Office workers. Old ladies. Kids on trains.
This guy was different. He could snap me like a twig.
My feet kept moving toward him, but my body was screaming at me to turn around. The closer I got, the more I felt like I was walking toward a cliff edge. My palms were sweating. My throat was dry.
What was I doing?
He saw me walking toward him. Shit. I couldn’t just stop and stare.
I veered left to the door next to his and fumbled in my pockets, pretending to search for keys I knew weren’t there. My hands shook as I patted down my hoodie. Come on, come on, just get in the elevator, mate.
My heart hammered as I stole a glance over my shoulder. His back was turned to me, waiting for the elevator.
Some hero I was. All that talk about standing up to people, and here I was, cowering at a stranger’s door like a frightened kid.
I waited till I heard the elevator doors slide open and him lumber in.
When I heard the elevator leave, I ran toward it and pressed the button to call it back.
A few seconds later I heard it coming. I primed myself to jump in as soon as the doors opened.
The doors opened and I hopped in.
THWACK.
I crashed into the behemoth himself, making him drop his six pack of Coronas. Most of the bottles smashed onto the elevator floor. The sweet bitter smell hit my nose.
‘Shit!’ he boomed.
‘Holy crap! I’m so s-sorry,’ I stammered. My heart was racing. I braced myself for a fist hitting my face.
‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’
‘I uh… I uh…’
Deep Voice looked down at his broken bottles, then back at me. His jaw clenched. He took a step forward, glass crunching under his boot.
‘You owe me a six pack.’
The elevator suddenly felt very small.
But something came over me.
‘The fuck I will,’ I heard myself say.
Deep Voice stopped. His eyebrows furrowed.
The adrenaline was coursing through me now, ‘You and your mates kept me and everyone up all night,’ I said, voice shaking but words coming faster. ‘I’m so sleep deprived I ran into you. This is your fault. So buy your own six-pack and get the fuck to sleep. You’re not fucking children.’
For a second, I thought he’d grab me. His hands flexed into fists. But then–nothing. Just a long, hard stare.
I stormed out of the elevator before he could stop me. I walked around the corner to the stairwell and leaned against the cold concrete wall, gasping.
My legs were shaking. My hands too. Not from fear–well, not just fear. From something else. Something that felt like… joy.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Who was I anymore?
That guy could’ve destroyed me. One punch. Lights out.
And I’d stood there, shivering like a wimp, but I mouthed off anyway.
Yelling at Teresa? That was easy. She was just a voice on the phone. Samuel Chen? A dickhead with a shit haircut. The escalator girls, the slow pedestrian, even Mullet Guy at the cinema–they just took it.
This was different.
This was real.
And the fucked-up part? I wanted more.
I stared at my hands. My nails had cut my palms again. Blood welled in the crescent marks. Was it adrenaline? No… it was…
Hunger.
I thought about Priya’s words: ‘You think yelling at strangers makes you strong? That’s not courage, Arjun. It’s cowardice dressed up as virtue.’
Maybe she was right.
Or maybe she just didn’t understand what it felt like to finally–finally–stop being invisible.
I took the stairs slowly, letting the shaking subside. When I made it back to my apartment, I pressed my ear against the balcony door, listening.
The music had turned down–not off, just… lower. Bob Marley leaked through the walls, but it was bearable now. Almost respectful. I heard the clinking of bottles, some shuffling, but no packing up. No chairs scraping. They weren’t leaving.
Then I heard Deep Voice’s rumble through the floor, ‘Aye, reckon that’s the cunt who called the cops?’
Weasel Voice replied, but I couldn’t make out the words.
My stomach dropped.
They knew.
I looked at my watch. 10AM. The music was quieter, sure. But my enemies in Unit 4 were far from vanquished.
I’d pissed off someone who could fold me in half.
At least he didn’t know which apartment I lived in.
And I could hear myself think now.
I collapsed onto the couch, adrenaline still coursing through me.
Sadly, I couldn’t celebrate. In two hours I’d be facing someone even more intimidating than Deep Voice: my mother.
But that wasn’t the end of my war with Unit 4. This was just the beginning.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Isaiah Prasad 