“Captain, no! We’re falling fast and hard!” the TV said to me as I rolled around the bed lazily, bored out of my mind. My parents had left me here all alone at home; my brother was currently spending the night at my aunt’s house, and here I was, stuck watching Star Trek: Generations on Syfy; my parents had been watching the movie before they had departed for the supermarket. “I wish my brother was here,” I muttered, not believing the words that were coming out of my mouth. I hated my little brother with a passion for all the time he had awakened me on the weekends; I’d wake up, rubbing my sleep swollen eyes, to find that demon child sprawled on top of me. Sleeping is an impossible task to accomplish when you live with an ADHD kid like my little brother.

Getting up in a slow, tired fashion, I walked towards the doorway to the hall, heading to my mother “office” for the telephone. I thought that maybe I’d call Shelby Nichols, my best friend, to pass the time, but before I could grab the phone, I heard a loud knocking noise. Mom and dad must be home… I thought, pulling my hand back and returning to the hallway. Another knock rank through the house, this time louder and more violent.

“Hold on a minute!” I yelled in response to my parent’s knocking. I muttered, “They must have forgotten the keys again,” before I made it to the kitchen, but by the time I got there, my parents started up the vigorous knocking again. For a second or two, I stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at the door. Something was off. Behind the thin, silky curtain that covered the partial-glass door, I saw two silhouettes, both masc- BOOM! CRASH! Before I could finish my thought, one of the glass panes burst into millions of glass shards. With a slight yelp, I spun around and run back to my mom’s office.

Once I had reached the door, I yanked the knob almost off trying to close it, and then slid down the surface in a desperate, nervous way. This was one of my worst fears – a break-in.

“The house is empty!” I heard a gruff voice yell as footsteps were heard, large boots by the sound of them, slamming down on the green linoleum of the kitchen floor. Desperately, I jumped up as fast as my frightened body would allow me to, walked over to the phone, and rapidly pushed the buttons to call my parents. After one ring, I heard a noise outside the door. “All I want for Christmas is you-oo-oo, you ba-by!” sung Mariah Carey in a merry way that did not match the desperate situation I was in. Suddenly, the terror dawned on me: My parents had left the cell phone.

Before I could hang up, the men heard the ring tone. “Hey, what’s that?” I heard the gruff voice say in the kitchen, as another voice answered, “I’ll check it out!”. The moment was coming, I knew, to take action. They would soon be near my door, see the light coming from under it, and know I was in here. I couldn’t let them find me.

As the man neared the door, his loud footsteps, not muffled by even the thick carpeting, resounded in the room as a countdown. 5… 4… I ran to my desk, yanked a reading lamp out of its socket and neared the door. 3… 2… I walked over to the door, resting my hand on the knob. A click went off as I unlocked the door. 1. With a flurry of movements, I threw the door open, took the lamp in both hands, and slammed it into the man’s face. His nose crunched from the strength of my blow, fueled by panic. “There’s a kid in here!” he yelled in a nasally voice, clutching his nose where a stream of blood had begun to flow out of his nostrils. I threw the lamp down as the other man came, and backed into the corner between the office door and the wall. They had me now.

Yelling like a trapped and enraged animal, I thrashed at them with shaky hands. My heard raced as they neared closer, grabbing my wrists to restrain me. One of them took a black cloth and slammed it into my face. The ceiling spun above me. The men cackled. The lights when out. My beating heart stopped beating.