Don't Test Me to Find Out

Don't Test Me to Find Out
Susan shook her head slowly. “Maybe. I just don’t want things to get out of hand— for her or for me.”

Vivian’s expression turned serious. “Out of hand? Susan, this is already out of hand.”

“I know,” Susan said softly, her voice tired. “That’s why I’m moving out this week.”

Vivian nodded approvingly. “That’s good. But still, that’s not enough. You need to get that woman locked up.”

Susan gave a weak smile. “She’s my best friend,” she admitted quietly as they started walking side by side toward the school exit.

Vivian shook her head slowly. “A little advice?” she said. “Don’t call her your friend anymore. Especially not your best friend. A real friend doesn’t attack the person they care about. Be careful with who you call a friend.”

Susan didn’t say a word. She just nodded slowly as they walked out of the building together, her heart heavy and her thoughts tangled between fear, hurt, and the need to escape.

'LATER IN THE EVENING'

Susan lay in bed inside her small bedroom inside the apartment she shared with Katy. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Vivian’s words echoed in her head like a broken record.

Arrest her ass!

A real friend doesn’t attack the person they care about!

Be careful who you call a friend!

Those words clashed with the memory of yesterday morning — when Katy had dragged her across the kitchen floor like a rag doll.

She wanted rest. God, she needed rest. But she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, it felt like she was right back there again — the yelling, the fight, the pain.

Her mind was a storm of emotions.
Anger.
Sadness.
Annoyance.
Sorrow.
And above all… shame.

Her own scream from the day before still echoed in her head as she lay there in the dimly lit room, tossing restlessly under her blanket.

Then came a sudden bing — a sharp notification sound that pierced through the silence. The phone buzzed beside her.

Susan groaned, reaching out toward the nightstand in the dark, frustration bubbling in her chest. Not just because of the sound, but because sleep refused to come. She was trying her best to suppress the chaos inside her — the shame, the disappointment, the helplessness — but it clung to her like a heavy fog.

Her hand brushed the phone. She grabbed it, then flicked on the small bedside lamp. A warm orange glow spread across the room.

She unlocked her phone, and a message from Mr. Anderson, her landlord, appeared on the screen:

I'm sorry, Miss Stone. There are no rental refunds. You'll have to use the remaining days until your rent expires next month. Even if you've already moved out, the payment continues until next month’s due date. Sorry for replying late. Have a nice night.

As she read each word, her heart sank deeper. She whispered the message softly under her breath.

“I’ll have to stay with Katy for another twenty-plus days? Oh my God…”

Her thumb moved quickly as she typed back, desperation lacing her words.

Is there a way we can work this out? It’s an emergency — I need to move out now. I’m low on funds, and I wouldn’t ask for a partial refund if I wasn’t desperate. Please, sir, consider it.

She hit send. The message delivered instantly, two blue ticks confirming it had reached him.

A moment later, his reply came.

I'm sorry. It's part of the rental terms and conditions — you’d know if you read them.

Susan exhaled sharply and shook her head. “Well, there was no risk in trying,” she muttered, setting the phone down.

She sat up slowly, the blanket sliding down to her waist. The soft orange light caught her tired eyes. “What am I going to do?” she whispered to herself.

Then something inside her shifted — a spark of courage mixed with raw anger.

“No,” she said under her breath, tightening her jaw. “I need to have a word with Katy. This shit has to end. If I’m stuck here, she’s not pulling that stunt again. I won’t allow it.”

She threw the blanket aside, swung her legs to the floor, and marched toward the door. The sound of her bare feet against the cold tiles followed her down the short hallway.

She stopped at Katy’s door. Her knuckles hit it hard.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Who’s there? Why are you banging on my door like that?!” Katy’s irritated voice snapped from the other side.

“Open up. There are things we have to discuss,” Susan shot back, her voice steady but burning.

“I’ve got nothing to discuss with you. Go away!” Katy barked, her tone cold and sharp.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Susan hit the door even harder.

“Is there something wrong with your brain?! Are you trying to knock my door down?” Katy yelled.

“Quiet your mouth and open this damn door!” Susan shouted back, anger finally spilling over.

“What?!” came Katy’s faint, disbelieving voice from inside.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The pounding grew louder. “Open this goddamn door now or I swear on my late mama’s life I’ll break it down!” Susan screamed.

Just as she lifted her leg to kick the door, the sound of locks clicking came from inside. The door creaked open halfway, revealing Katy’s furious face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you okay?!” she snapped.

Susan dropped her leg, eyes blazing. “Am I okay? You’re honestly asking me that?” she repeated slowly, disbelief twisting her voice.

“Yes,” Katy retorted, pulling the door fully open and crossing her arms. She stood in the doorway, chin raised, staring Susan down.

Susan stepped closer, her own expression hardened. “I’m here to warn you. That stunt you pulled yesterday morning? If you ever try that again, we’ll have a serious problem.”

Katy scoffed, folding her arms tighter. “And what are you gonna do about it, bitch?”

“Don’t test me to find out,” Susan shot back, stepping even closer until only a few inches separated them. Their eyes locked — pure fire meeting fire.