At 9 P.M., I take the wood chair in the bedroom and lodge its back beneath the door handle that does not lock. My third try is strongest, where the door cannot open and will not budge. I do not believe anyone will attempt to enter, not now that I’m an adult, but it makes me feel better about sleeping there. I climb into the bed, hard upon my back and rigid as I lay down. I have brushed my teeth, I have removed my contacts, and I have gotten my glass of water. There is no reason to leave the room until morning. 

    So I do not.