I was shot last night.
Through the arm, in the chest, by an intruder I didn’t know. I screamed, my voice raw and terrified, trying to wake someone, anyone. My father, asleep a moment ago on the couch beside me, was gone. Perhaps if I scream louder he’ll hear me.
The first assailant came to my house, rolled up in the car, and fired through my window. It hit me in the arm and I was terrified to cry out. What if they heard me? What if they realized I wasn’t dead? But I had to tell my family. I had to do something.
Then I was in a chair, curled up late at night, exhausted from staying up too late. I shifted and moved, desperately wanting to find a position that would help me sleep. At last, I began to drift. Silent and still in the fog that was my mind, when the door opened.
The door had been locked. I had locked it.
And I was suddenly aware that this was a dream, and I was still hearing a door that should be locked, open.
I screamed, thrashing in my dream, trying to wake myself and focus on who was entering. I was going to be killed. I was going to die.
Tears welled up in my eyes, tightened my throat. I did not want to die. I desperately did not want to die. Not like this. Not by murder.
My eyes dragged open, unfocused and half asleep. I couldn’t move my body yet and consciousness was quickly trying to slip from me. I forced my eyes to move, to my door, to what I heard. The light from the moon illuminated the entire downstairs, bright like lights. My panic intensified. The door was open. Someone was there. Someone was in my house.
The fear shot adrenaline into my veins like a lead bullet, and my vision focused on my door. My breath caught in my lungs and…
There was no one. My door was closed and locked. There was no figure standing there. I was safe.
But I did not feel safe. As I got my light on, I felt like someone was outside, watching me. As I heard cars drive by on the gravel road, rocks popping like small calibers, I felt terrified tears rise up the back of my throat. I told myself to breathe, to exist, that it was all a dream and I would be okay. But it wasn’t okay.
The figure was outside. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it. I felt it. It was out there, watching me. And it would enter my home the moment I fell asleep again.