To start off, I am 15 years old and I am left alone quite often at my house. It’s not really a big deal to me, but when it comes close to dawn I guess you could say I get a bit anxious. During my freshman year, I was left alone one day during winter break. My sister was at a friends and both parents were at work. My brother had recently left to go to the gym, and told me he’d be back within an hour or so.
I sat in my basement playing Mario kart and chatting with a friend on the phone, the typical night of a teenager. The snow outside began to come down harder with each second passing, and I assumed my parents were stuck on the roads at the time. 10:30 rolled around and I began to be paranoid of all of my surroundings. I was just beginning to reply to my friend when the power to the house was cut. It wasn’t like a usual power outage in my neighborhood, you could hear the power attempting to turn back on with a what sounded like a low growl.
It groaned once more and I was left in complete and utter darkness. I became annoyed and was just about to head upstairs to grab a flashlight because my phone was close to dead. But as soon as I reached the base of the stairs, I heard footsteps in my kitchen. My body froze, no one was supposed to be home for another 30 minutes. I stood there, listening, thinking I was only being paranoid, but they started back up.
Now with my basement layout, there’s no doors to the outside and it was mostly underground. The only way I could’ve escape was through my brothers window, which was completely covered in inches of snow. Plus the door was very loud, it would give away my position immediately.
The steps were obviously male, the firm thudding of boots stomped across my kitchen back and forth. I ran into a little storage room that we kept the water softener and printer in. I frantically searched for somewhere to hide. There was a 4×4 space in the very corner between the softeners. I had a small frame, but it was still extremely difficult to fit between the two. I managed to fit and I threw a table cloth over myself, in fear of him coming downstairs.
I listened to the man, his footsteps seemed to stop and I thought I was making it all up. Or so I thought.
Next thing I hear is him cuss and say “Where the fuck is the girl.” My heart dropped. He was looking for me. I shakily grabbed my phone and dialed 911. I prayed to god that my phone didn’t die before I could give my destination. A woman answered and I immediately started sobbing into the phone. “Please, please help me. I’m 15 years old and I’ve been left alone. There is a man in my home looking for me, please help me.” The woman tried to calm me down and explain what was happening again. I told her once more and begged her to send someone quickly. I heard the footsteps grown closer to the stairs and I cried even harder. I began to pray and beg that I wouldn’t be found. The operator told me that there was an officer on the way, and that they had called my parents.
Luckily as soon as she called, they were pulling into the driveway. I could hear my dad barge through the door yelling at the top of his lungs that whoever was in his house he needed to get the fuck out and that he had a gun. The operator confirmed it was my father and got off of the phone. I ran upstairs and basically fell into my parents arms. I cried until I couldn’t breathe.
The creepiest thing about this? All of the doors were locked and there were no signs of any break in.