The Stranger - PART II

I hurry back to my bedroom to see if there is anything I can use for protection. Piles of clothes, a yoga mat, books. Gosh, could I seriously not have thought of keeping something in my bedroom for a time like this? There is nothing. Nothing. Why did I never think about keeping a bat around?

I run into the bathroom and take a look around there. The towel rod! I throw the towel onto the floor and pull out the rod. It’s freaking plastic. I toss it on the ground on top of the towel.

My cellphone! I look at the desk in my bedroom where I leave it for the night but it’s not there. I scan the room, it’s nowhere to be found. The couch! I rush to the living room and toss all the pillows around until I find the phone in between the cushions. I touch the screen repeatedly and it stays black. I push the side button and get the little battery flashing with a thin red line, it’s out of battery. That makes sense because I played games all afternoon before my nap. Out of all the days I had to forget to charge it this night.

I run toward the apartment door and I see the door shaking as someone must be pushing it from the outside in an attempt to break the lock. “Who are you?” I shout. No response. But now the doorknob is rattling loudly and I know it might not hold for long. 

I see the small home bar and slide it in front of the door. “Leave my house!” I shout. Are the neighbors not hearing any of this commotion? The push of the door is now making the home bar sway from side to side. Whoever this is, they really want to get in.

I stand there just watching the door push in a bit further with every blow. Bang. There is nothing for me to do. Bang. Do I have any large knives in the kitchen? Bang. I run over and open the drawers, there’s a huge steak knife, but I don’t think I would be able to actually stab anyone, just the thought of my hand holding a piece of metal and sliding it into someone’s flesh. Bang. No, I just can’t do it, I put the knife back. Bang. I peer out the kitchen door, down the small foyer, and the door that’s caving in. Bang. Bang. Bang. The home bar sways forward and crashes onto the floor. 

The door is ajar but the chain is still on. I see a man’s face peer through the opening - light skin, dark curly hair, mustache. I have never seen this man before in my life. He reaches his arm in to remove the chain, but after a couple of tries he realizes that he won’t be able to. Instead he gives the door a few more pushes until the screws on the door chain start to make their way out of the wall. The door is still not free, though, because the home bar is lying across the floor, blocking it from opening further.

I’m trapped.

…

When you’re a child your parents usually try to do everything they can to protect you. Protect you from harm, heartbreak, and the truth. My parents taught me to walk home in a group, never leave my drink unattended, and to always tell someone where I’ll be if going to a new place or with a new person. They told me to stay away from strangers, but not about the ones breaking into your apartment in the middle of the night.

I’m frozen. The door will give in anytime now. I watch this stranger trying to force his way into my apartment. What did I do to him? Does he know me from somewhere? Has he been following or watching me and I just didn’t notice? Is he going to kidnap me or just hurt me here? How will he hurt me?

My mind is circling, endless possibilities. I have to focus. None of those questions matter at this moment because knowing the answers won’t be able to help me right now. I need to focus on what I can control.

The only thing I can do now is escape. 

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