“I’ll ask her to stop shouting so loud…”

About six months back, I got new upstairs neighbours. A couple.

I know nothing about this couple really. But I can figure out a few things. I know that they’re somewhat young. Perhaps my age. Maybe a little younger. I know that they live by themselves. I know the two of them live in what would be considered a bachelor apartment. It can fit two easily, with the help of the large loft.

I’ve also learnt that the male is abusive.

Anyone who has spent any extended period of time in Asia knows that abuse is not something that you talk about. It happens, frequently. I’ve seen the shadows of child abuse grace the cheeks and arms of students when I was teaching elementary school. One of the reasons I moved up to middle school was because I had the knowledge that at least my students could find ways to avoid their parents, if they needed to. I’ve seen women who can dress fashionably and use their whitening makeup to hide the marks of a boyfriend or husband who loves them too hard. When I walk up the stairs every day at work, English and Korean proverbs are there to inspire the students. The one that catches my eye every time I go up the stairs is “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” Perhaps because it’s so ancient and archaic to me, but still so prominent in modern Korea. Mo matter how little they want to talk about it, it’s there. You can see it when you watch long enough.

In this case, I didn’t see it. I heard it.

Normally on Saturdays, usually after 9 or 10, the screams would begin. A high pitched scream, shouting the same words over and over again. “No! No! Stop! Stop!” in Korean. Over and over again, week after week. There was no other way to interpret those words. The way their feet would pound against the floor, stomping and running about, doing god knows what. Sometimes it would sound like something was being knocked over. Screaming, shouting, until… silence.

Up until this week, I’ve kept my head low, knowing that nothing would be done. The Korean Police force does not have a very good reputation when it comes to protecting women. On top of that, foreigners have enough trouble getting in contact with the police due to the language barrier, and many people feel there is a lot of prejudice towards foreigners from the police. I’ve spoken to my friends about my neighbours upstairs many times, and we all said the same thing: as much as we wished we could do something, there was nothing we could do.

This Saturday, things started earlier than normal. Even before 7pm, the screaming began. Loud, blood curdling. How could the cops not be called before? How could others just… ignore it? It drove me insane.

I ordered dinner, keeping an ear out to wonder if they were just fighting or if things were really bad. The thumping was loud. The no’s were audible. It was sending chills down my spine. There is really nothing worse than being in that situation, of hearing someone get hurt and knowing there’s really nothing you could do, even if you did everything you could.

They were drowning out my TV, which was new. They’d never been that loud. I’d never been this scared for her. I heard the crash of what sounded to be a bookshelf, and that was the last straw for me. I didn’t know what was happening, but I needed somebody to knock on that door.

I asked a few friends, and was told to call 112, which is the police line. After a lot of confusion (which included a Korean person answering, me asking if they spoke English, me thinking I’d been transferred to the tourism centre, me hanging up, then me calling the tourism centre to ask what the hell was going on, the tourism centre explaining it was going to be a three way call, and then the police calling me back) I explained to the police that I was really worried about the woman living in the apartment above mine. She was screaming, and it sounded like she was being abused and was being seriously hurt. The police officer seemed completely baffled that I was calling on behalf of someone else, but said he would send someone to my apartment. Of course, I did not give MY apartment information, but the address of the room in question. I was not wasting time with them coming to me.

I got a call back a few minutes later, from the police men who were trying to find the apartment. They were both giggling and shouting in bad English. And from the sounds of it, taking their jobs very seriously (Please note: sarcasm.) I grumbled frustratedly, and continued to listen to the couple battle it out upstairs.

A second phone call happened, from a more fluent speaker from the police department. As he spoke, I felt like my heart was about to break, and I suddenly understood the creation of Batman. He asked me questions about the couple as if they were disturbing me. Asking if they were keeping my children up or interrupting my work. I shrugged and said yeah, I’d been trying to work, but was more concerned for the safety for the woman. The man seemed to chuckle when he repeated back to himself what I said, before explaining to me that all they really could do was go up to the apartment, make sure the woman is safe, and ask her to stop shouting so loud. I felt like my heart was going to explode with rage at the thought. “No no no! Don’t you dare tell her that!” I jumped in with a reply. “You tell the man to stop hitting her!” The police officer seemed to try and explain that because they weren’t fighting in the street or in the hallway, there was really nothing that could be done. Essentially, because they were in private, there was no proof. So I asked, “But what if she’s hurt or killed?”

His response?

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about murder. This is Korea. Murder rarely happens.”

…

That wasn’t exactly my point, sir. The point is that there is someone who is walking that fine line. And really, we should be nowhere close to that line, I don’t care what country we’re in.

So, the police officer told me that they would send someone up to check on the girl and say there’d been a noise complaint (because that was the only thing they could actually go for, apparently) and I waited. And I waited.

And then suddenly, things became silent.

I don’t know what happened upstairs. I don’t know if they just stopped fighting on their own, or if the man and woman left, or maybe just the man or just the woman, or if something else happened. But, I do know the phone rang a third time. It was a police officer, calling me to follow up on what had happened.

“Well, we went to check on them, but nobody was there,” the officer told me. I shook my head. They were there. They had been there. The timing didn’t work out that it could just vanish. “And we haven’t had any other Korean residents call in a complaint… We don’t think there is much of a problem. So don’t worry, there is no problem.”

So. Let’s review.

Because I was the only person to call in… And nobody else seems to be complaining… There probably wasn’t a problem.

It’s almost like the question of “If a tree falls in the woods, and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Except in this case…

If a woman is hurt in her home… And nobody is there to stop it… Is there really a problem?

There is no other answer here. Yes, there is a problem.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now.

But. I know that upstairs is silent right now.