UVT1/ A Scream In The Dark

Us Verses Us Verses Them, a Noir Novella 

 

Part One : A Scream In The Dark

Part Two : The Gender War Racket

Part One : A Scream In The Dark

The city was a blur of neon and rain, the streets slick with a sheen of despair. I stood across the street from the café, my coat drenched, watching her through the misty window. Stella sat there, smiling, her lips moving as she leaned in close to the woman across from her. Another sympathetic ear, another victim of her twisted stories.

Sixteen years. I’d been tangled in her web for sixteen long years, every thread pulling tighter until I could barely breathe. To the world, she was a fragile, broken thing, a woman crushed under the weight of a violent man. That’s the story she told them, and they ate it up like hungry dogs. But I knew the truth. I’d lived it.

She treated me like dirt. The way she sneered, the way she spat her words like poison. “You’re worthless,” she’d say, leaning in so close I could smell the venom on her breath. “You’re nothing without me.” And the threats. Oh, the threats. She didn’t just throw them around like empty promises. No, Stella was methodical. She once called the cops on me, said I’d hit her. The sirens screamed down our street that night, flashing lights bathing the house in red and blue.

“Hands where I can see them!” the officer barked, his gun drawn.

I didn’t move. I knew better than to resist. As they cuffed me, I glanced over my shoulder at Stella, standing in the doorway, her face a mask of sorrow. She was crying. Always crying. Always the victim. But her eyes! Those cold, glittering eyes told a different story.

I tried to explain it to the police. To the lawyers. To anyone who would listen. 

“She’s manipulating you!” I said, my voice cracking under the weight of desperation. “She’s not the victim here. I am.”

The lawyer barely glanced up from her stack of papers. “You do realize that claiming your wife is lying is a common tactic used by abusers, right?” Her voice was ice, her fingers tapping the desk impatiently.

“But I’m not lying. I’ve never laid a hand on her!”

“Save it for the judge,” she replied, her tone as indifferent as the rain outside.

In court, it was the same. Stella, in her frail, broken act, stood before the judge, her voice soft, almost trembling. “He scares me,” she whispered, clutching a tissue in her hand. “I just... I don’t feel safe anymore.”

The judge’s gavel came down hard, the sound echoing in my chest. I’d lost again. No one could see past her tears, past the performance. And every time I tried to speak out, it only made me look guiltier. It was like screaming into a void, the sound swallowed by their biases, their dogma that told them men were predators and women were prey.

It was after one of these court sessions that I bumped into her ex, Mark, in the hallway. He looked rough. Eyes hollow, shoulders slumped like a man carrying the weight of the world. 

“She got you too, huh?” I asked, my voice bitter.

Mark nodded, his gaze distant. “Same story. Different day. She’s been doing this for years, man. You’re just the latest.”

A knot twisted in my gut. I wasn’t paranoid. I wasn’t imagining it. She had a pattern. Jealousy, control, manipulation, it was her art form. She thrived on it.

Then there was Liz. Sweet, kind-hearted Liz. She didn’t know about Stella at first. I tried to shield her from it, from the darkness that followed me like a shadow. But Stella always found a way. She caught wind of our relationship, and it didn’t take long before Liz started pulling away, her warmth cooling like a fading flame.

I came home one evening to find her sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes clouded with doubt.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my stomach already sinking.

“I’ve been talking to Stella,” she said, her voice soft. “She told me some things. About you.”

My blood ran cold. “What did she say?”

“She said you’ve hurt her. That you’re dangerous.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Liz, you can’t believe her. She’s lying!”

Liz’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

And just like that, I knew Stella had won. Liz was gone, emotionally, even if she stayed in the room. The poison had seeped in, corroding everything we’d built together. A week later, she left for good.

I confronted Stella that night. I had to. 

I found her standing by the window, looking out at the city like a queen surveying her kingdom.

“You did this!” I shouted, my voice raw. “You poisoned Liz against me!”

Stella turned slowly, a smile curling at the edges of her lips. “This world isn’t for men like you anymore,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Men who think they can control women. We’re waking up, and we don’t need you.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “It’s not about control. It’s about love. You’ve twisted everything.”

Her laughter was cold, hollow. “Love? Don’t kid yourself. It’s about power. And I’ve got it.

I watched as everything around me crumbled. Liz, gone. The courts, the police, all of them in Stella’s pocket, whether they knew it or not. It wasn’t just her game anymore. It was the system’s. Everywhere I turned, I saw men being dragged down, accused, silenced. The male suicide rate was climbing, the headlines screamed about it, but no one asked why. No one cared.

I walked into the precinct one last time, hoping for some sliver of humanity. Detective Harris sat behind his desk, the faint glow of his monitor casting shadows over his tired face.

“She’s manipulating you, all of you,” I said, my voice hollow.

He looked up, eyes hard. “I’ve heard enough, Johnny. You need to let it go.”

I leaned forward, desperation leaking into my voice. “It’s not just me. This is happening everywhere. Men are being destroyed, and no one is listening.”

Harris sighed, rubbing his temples. “You sound like a broken record.”

The streets were darker than usual that night, the rain heavier. I stood under a flickering streetlight, watching the world go by, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. Stella had won. She’d taken everything from me. My relationships, my reputation, my sense of self. 

But as the rain soaked into my bones, something clicked. This wasn’t just about me. It was about something bigger. A system that thrived on division, on turning men and women into enemies. I didn’t know who was behind it, but I could see the cracks in the foundation. And maybe, just maybe, if I screamed loud enough, someone would listen.