Let's Not Meet Again

Man In The Garage

I'm a 14 year old girl and I, like the majority of teenagers, enjoy being home alone. My dad works from home, so very rarely does this happen, but when the opportunity arises, I will take it.

One day, both my parents decided to take my brother to chess class and then go shopping in a strip mall nearby. They asked if I wanted to come, but seeing the chance to binge eat Halloween candy and watch Dexter with the sound turned up all the way, I decided to stay home (I regret it now). They tried to convince me to come, but I don't like going outside (where my fellow introverts at) and they left a couple minutes later.

I settled in for a few hours of peace with a mountain of Twix and Kit Kats (fight me, health nuts) and the glory that is Michael C. Hall. I don't know what chemicals those candy people put in this stuff, but I'm not complaining.

After a few episodes, the candy was gone and all I had left were the shiny wrappers that I would probably sell my soul for (I have an addiction). I went to throw them out and mourn the loss of the glorious chocolate-caramel-cookie that is Twix when I saw that the trash can was near overflowing.

It was about 6:30 by now, but dark enough to basically be the middle of the night. I wasn't exactly comfortable to go outside in the dark, especially when the house next to me hasn't had anyone living in it for the past two years, which means bank people or whatever are constantly walking around it. However, the garbage bin is right next to the garage door and I can get outside and back in in about five seconds. So I decided to risk it.

I went outside, threw the trash away, and as I was turning to go back in, I saw a man walking by. This isn't really that uncommon, as I live on a busy street and I live in an upper-middle class area, so there's not that much crime and people go walking at night all the time. I thought it was kind of weird that he was wearing all black, because normally people want to be seen in the dark so they don't get hit by cars, but it didn't seem that strange. He was on his phone, and didn't even look up at me, which I was thankful for because I was wearing a nightgown and my hair was a mess. I ran back inside and hit the button that closed the garage door.

As it was slowly climbing down, the man raced inside.

I was in shock. I stared at him. We made eye contact. He didn't have crazy eyes or anything; he looked perfectly normal. The garage door shut and he smiled wide.

I shrieked and slammed the door that led into the garage shut and locked it. He started yelling at me about just wanting to be friends (yes, creeper man, I, a teenage girl home alone, will gladly befriend you, a man who just ran into my garage).

I called my parents. I probably should have called the police, but I didn't want them to come home and have this strange man jump out and attack them once they got inside. They didn't pick up, of course. I texted them frantically, then called the 911, who said they would send out a squad car.

The next ten minutes were probably the most frightening moments of my life. The operator stayed on the phone with me and told me not to go outside in case he had anyone else out there, but I could hear him in the garage. He didn't try to break the door down or anything. Instead, he scratched it and jiggled the doorknob and called for me to open the door, which was probably scarier than if he just tried to break the door down.

I heard the garage door open and close, and then the police came. The guy was outside, sitting in front of the garage of the empty house next door. He said he was a landscaper, and that he just wanted to talk with me, and that we had spoken before and were friends. I was basically hysterical at this point, and with my sugar-addled brain, I couldn't even form coherent sentences (curse you, chocolate).

The cops did arrest him, and my parents came home. They saw I was alright and then seemed more concerned about the car that was in the garage than about me (I can't blame them; that car is older than I am and has sentimental value).

I'm not going to go out again at night, ever, and am probably never going to open a garage door again.

So, "friend," let's not meet again. I have pepper spray now.