thin walls (are calling me home)

Chapter 1

trigger warning for mention of abuse and verbal abuse. it's light and very fast, but i figured it was best to put a warning. just in case.

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The first time Lauren Jauregui was cleared to handle a call by herself, it was a freaking noise complaint.

Not that Lauren herself was complaining. Not really. She'd do whatever she could to make the world a better and safer place and if that meant busting some teenager's party to insure that the neighbors could get some sleep, so be it.

Only it wasn't that simple. Lauren had been sitting around the police station all day - her superiors had been trying this new thing where cops would keep to the station until necessary to prevent incidents like the disgusting bloodsheds that unfortunately still happened all over the country - when they called for her and she'd jumped out of her chair, ready to help with whatever needed.

Thing is, she hadn't been expecting a noise complaint. But, "The lady next door says she can hear a very loud and heated argument between a man and a woman. Plus, she thinks the woman is crying. She said she's just moved in so she doesn't really know either of them."

That certainly got Lauren's attention and soon everything about some punk partying too hard was forgotten. This was serious and so the young cop knit her eyebrows in concentration as she listened to her colleague and wrote down the address she'd drive to.

Lauren was fairly new to the force and had never come across something like this. The lady that had called 911 had said she was afraid for her neighbor and that she'd even heard a dull thump like a chair falling to the ground. She'd seemed very nervous according to her colleague and Lauren couldn't help but feel just as apprehensive.

If there was something she hated, it was abuse. Of any kind, shape or form. She guessed it must trigger her at some point, considering her history with her uncle. Regardless of her past, though, abuse was just- it was just bad. And as Lauren drove through the streets of New York, she hoped she'd get to her destination in time to prevent things from getting more out of hand than they probably were already.

Arriving at the apartment building she'd been sent to, Lauren buzzed the intercom of the lady who'd called so she'd let her in. Once inside, the young woman made her way up the stairs as fast as she could - no point in waiting for the elevator to get to the second floor, right? - but she couldn't hear anything but her breathing and her footste-

"Seriously? You can't even get that right? Fucking pathetic."

"Matt, please-"

That was all Lauren needed to hear and she felt her blood boil as she walked up to the door.

"Don't you dare try and play the victim now, you hear me? Don't even-"

She guessed the doorbell and her loud knocking had startled the man into silence because for a second nothing could be heard.

Just as Lauren was about to basically start punching the door again, it was opened. In front of her stood a young woman about her age. She wore glasses, but they didn't hide the puffiness and redness of her brown eyes and if it weren't for the situation they were in, she'd take the time to really acknowledge how beautiful she was. But now was most definitely not the time, so.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

The shy and polite smile that stretched across her face was such a contrast to the redness of her eyes that for a second - but only a second - Lauren froze. The second was soon over, though, as she remembered how trying to pretend everything is fine was one of the most common reactions to abuse.