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You're The Only One

I don't know why/when I started this but I think I started it at 3 am in the middle of a panic attack and I decided to just go with it????

A crash pulled Richie out of his sleep. He sat up, feeling his heart pounding, beating in his ears. It was never fun to be woken up by a loud crash - especially when he lived alone.

Richie went through his night stand and pulled out a heavy piece of metal that was supposed to be a part of his bed, but it had come as an extra. Breathing quickly, Richie walked out toward his kitchen, hoping something had just fallen over and that he was just paranoid.

Then, he heard scuffling and quiet talking.

"Fuck, fuck, fucking shit," came an angry whisper.

Richie turned the corner and held out his weapon. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing here?!" he yelled, making the person jump up and whip around.

Just as Richie believed he'd gained the upper hand, the person reached into his pocket and held out a gun, pointing it straight at Richie.

"Put the fucking weapon down," the intruder said. He was clothed in all black and had a ski mask covering his face so there was no way Richie would be able to identify him.

Richie dropped the metal piece, holding up his hands in fear. "Please don't shoot me," he said, feeling his voice crack under the fear that he may only have seconds to live.

"Sit down," the intruder ordered, pointing at one of Richie's kitchen chairs.

Richie obeyed and sat down, not fighting back as the intruder tied him up with duct table, making his skin ache with the sting of the adhesive.

"Where's your stash?" the intruder asked, pocketing his gun and hopping up on Richie's counter. "Is there anyone else here?"

"Just me," Richie said, glaring at the individual sitting on his counter. "And I don't have a stash. My wallet's in the back room though."

"How much is in it?"

"Sorry to break it to you, but I didn't exactly count it all up before you showed up. Wasn't exactly expecting some dumbass kid to walk into my house at four in the morning and rob me," Richie snapped, pulling at the tape.

The intruder seemed offended, glaring harshly at Richie. "I'm not a kid, fuckface. I'm twenty two, for your information. Can you give me an estimate for how much is in your wallet?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Maybe forty bucks?"

"You're broke."

"You're the one who's robbing me, dumbass!"

The intruder glared through the holes in his ski mask, and Richie was sure he'd have stuck out his tongue if he wasn't trying to be professional. He put his gun down on the counter and walked toward the bedroom, muttering to himself angrily the whole time.

Richie tugged at the tape, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He successfully got one of his hands free and grabbed the gun, before freeing his other hand. He tiptoed to the wall in his kitchen and heard the intruder coming back.

As soon as he rounded the corner, Richie attacked and tackled him to the ground, making the intruder scream in shock. With Richie on top of him and the gun pointed at his head, Richie was surprised when the intruder fought back.

Richie glared and pointed the gun away, opening it up to reveal no bullets. Growling irritably, he stood up and grabbed a knife from a drawer before tackling the boy again. With a real weapon in hand, the intruder couldn't do much except plead for Richie not to hurt him.