That goddamned thing

Chapter 1

(After 30 hours)

I wake up with a start to the usual chiming of bells, realizing that I am already 15 minutes late. Yawning, I try to sit up with the pain from last night still in my back and knees. I drag myself from my bed and carry myself to the washroom. I look up at myself in the mirror, my dark brown hair, tied up in a messy bun. I still have splotches of makeup from last night. Sighing, I start to brush my teeth recalling the happenings of last night.

It was a bad day after all; I had a hectic time at office and then went in the same clothes to the party. While returning home late at night my car broke down so I had to walk all the way home, since it was past midnight and I couldn't find a cab. As I was approaching my building, I saw a headlight coming right in my direction, I tended to jump but my heel got stuck in God knows what and I tripped. Cursing under my breath, I looked up to see where the silent monster with the headlight went. I heard shuffling of feet but there was no sound of any kind of engine.

"Are you fine, young lady?" I heard someone say. I looked up to find a policeman standing over me. "I'm fine." I lied. My knees were hurt badly. The policeman helped me get up and I felt a terrible pain in my back as well, which must have been due do the sudden falling. It made sense now, seeing the police, I realized that it wasn't any silent engine with a headlight coming my way on the pavement but the policeman with a bright torch. I must have been very tired to have thought that. I thanked the policeman and asked why he was flashing the torch at this time of the night. Usually policemen, while keeping a watch, just walked silently along pavements, seeing him do this was strange.

He told me that there had been a robbery earlier in number 32 in the next building and it seemed that the burglar was still around since nothing was taken but the house was turned upside down. The policeman further told me that the burglar seemed to be after something that he still had not found. I shuddered, realizing that number 32 in the next lane was right behind my apartment,  but the policeman told me to worry about nothing and that they would find the burglar soon enough. He also offered me to walk me down to my apartment because I was apparently so scared, but in real it was the long day that I had, that made me look so scared. I told him that it was okay, and started walking towards my apartment.

My head had started feeling dizzy as I approached my building. I lived on the first floor and sighed when I thought about going up the stairs. Why these people don't install elevators, I thought, but then, it was of no use since they were thinking of taking the building down soon. I walked past the advertisement I had placed at the entrance and made a mental note to myself of taking it down in the morning. Finally I was at my front door; I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, taking off my coat and shoes, I started walking towards my bedroom. I didn't even look around the apartment and walked straight to my room, went to the washroom and nursed my knees which hadn't been cut as bad as I thought, and still they hurt badly. I put bandages on the cuts and walked lazily to my bed and I don't remember anything that happened after that at all.

I finish brushing my teeth, and climb into the bath into the warm water. It takes me 10 minutes to do the rubbing, scrubbing and the rinsing. I go back to my room and open my closet and choose to wear my chocolate brown dress shirt and black jeans. They cover my knees beautifully; I don't want people asking me all day about what happened to them.  As I am blow drying my hair, I hear something fall in the kitchen, thinking it might be a cat; I ignore it and continue blow-drying. I curl my hair in loose strands and walk out of my room to get something to eat.

I haven't eaten anything since last evening, no wonder my stomach is rumbling. I walk to the kitchen, take out the breakfast cereal, pour it in a bowl and start to gobble it. As I eat, I look out of the kitchen's window at number 32 of Oakland. The curtains are closed so I don't see the mess the burglar must have made. The Gilmore family living in number 32 is on a holiday so the burglar must have taken his chance. But then I remember the police mentioning that he hadn't take anything. I try to look closely at the closed curtains but they seem as normal as ever. The concept of the houses fascinates me. One can never guess what goes on inside them until they enter them. It looks perfectly normal from outside despite all the mess the burglar must have made.

After finishing the cereal, I put the bowl on the counter and walk out to the living room quickly but stop dead in my tracks at the sight that I meet. I am horrified.

                                                                                 *

I walk slowly around the small table near the door and towards the sofa. There is a man leaning beside the sofa fast asleep. I am too horrified that after almost 5 minutes pass, I realize that my mouth is open wide and I have been in the same position, eyes bulging out since the moment I saw the man. The shock is so intense that I almost feel like someone just turned me into a statue. I want to scream, but then my voice gets stuck in my throat since the man is asleep and I know that I am safe until he stays that way. I look at him closely. He is wearing ragged jeans and a grey tee, his dirty blonde hair are all messy and his shoes look as if they have been worn badly, they are literally ragged.

I get a little closer to him, he looks around 23. He has handsome features behind the dirty mask of dust and a rather innocent expression on his face; I shake my head and remind myself that he is not innocent. I shall not let his innocent expression overpower me. Suddenly a lot of voices start screaming at the same time in my head. What is he doing here? Is he a burglar? Why is he sleeping in living room then? How long has he been here? I was very calm despite the fact that a complete stranger is in front of me, in my home, sleeping on my carpet, in his dirty clothes and ragged shoes. Nevertheless, he doesn't look like a beggar. He looks more like a tramp to me. Anger swells up in me.

The kitchen clock starts to ding telling me that it is eight already, I shift to the side a bit too loudly which causes the man to groan in his sleep and I suddenly pick an umbrella from the umbrella stand and hold it in my hand to be used as a weapon against him. He shifts in his sleep but does not wake up. Good, I think. The more he sleeps the better. I will have more time to think. Should I call the cops? Of course I should. After all, he has broken into my home and has no good intentions to be sure. He doesn't look drunk, or injured. He is wearing a tired expression. I walk over to the phone to call the police but then put it down. I have to admit, his innocent expression doesn't claim him to be a burglar. But then who is he? Suddenly I find myself waiting for him to get up so I can interrogate who he is. I have to get to work at nine and it is already ten minutes past eight.

The man shifts in his sleep again and slips against the sofa, jolts up and looks straight at me in eye. It happens so suddenly that I take a step back. I realize that I was deep in thought again and hence I was shocked. The monster is much scarier now that it is awake.