I did it. I called the cops last night. Today, the *****y part of the apartment manager couple (she's very ****, not to mention rude, and he's as laid-back as it gets) called and asked me to call. I was panicked the whole way driving to school that the cops had told them.

Which is exactly what happened.

So, when I got here relatively early, I pulled out the ol cellphone and tried the managers again. Thank god, I got the husband. I told him why I did it (that it triggers the f**k out of me, and that I was afraid she was being abused) and he said he'd been sure there was more to the story and thanked me for being honest with him. He did request that I go to them first next time, but he also said he wouldn't tell the people downstairs who called, so I don't have to worry about them coming after me.

Even better, he said that he'd heard the kid screaming too, and that those people needed to realize they weren't the only ones living in the building and that they needed to be more respectful of others.

WHEW.

I don't know if I solved anything, but at least I know I tried. And now it's past time for me to take my 3rd Klonopin of the day.

Candy