Why did that chime just go off.
It wasn't even a question because I knew it could only mean one thing: someone or something had just entered my family's home. My thoughts quickened with my heartbeat as adrenaline inundated my veins.
Was it my parents? No. They left over three minutes ago. Even two minutes was too long for them to turn around if they had forgotten something. My parents were gone.
Was it my sister? No. She was at her friend's birthday party. The party was a few towns over, and it was supposed to end at 8. It wasn't my sister.
Oh jeez, this really sucks. Because no one else has the keys to our home. And that means someone just breached the walls of our shelter. Oh jeez. Someone just broke into my house.
Calm.
It might not be bad. Maybe the house door hadn't been locked because my parents were expecting someone to come. Bad or not, staying here gives me no advantage. I can go get shot or sit here and wait to get shot, or I can go meet the family friend or wait for them to meet me.
After what seemed like ages of battling my brain, my body cautiously pried itself from the chair, not making a sound. I made my way to the door of my room, the portal that led to a now-foreign hallway. And then I turned the corner.
. . .
The garage door shut a few minutes ago - the light outside just turned off - and I think I passed their car on the way here. So they were gone. The key. Under the flowerpot? No. Oh right; of course. The welcome mat. I always love when they put it there. It makes me feel so invited every time.
Ah. The alarm thing went off. And either they left music playing to welcome them back later or -- oh, so there's someone still home to stop the music. This is gonna be more fun than I expected. Normally when I do this, there's no one home, and quite frankly, it gets boring after a while.
Let's see . . . If that kind of music was playing, it must be a boy who thinks he's old enough, cool enough, to protect the house. Oh, how it's gonna feel to be able to prove him wrong. The music was coming from over here . . . but for now let's go to the kitchen and see what kinds of weapons we can dig up. It's always more fun when you get to see them notice that it's their stuff hitting them. Projectiles are best, so nothing here will do. Bathroom? No. Laundry room? Ah, this is good. Loaded? Oh well, I can just do that here. Over the sink, that way I don't have to worry about cleaning up the floor later.
Move quickly, move quietly. I know what kind of person he is, and soon enough he will probably leave his room to see who entered the house. If I make it in time I'll be able to get him before he gets the chance to figure it out. Waiting here gives me a good strategic advantage; gives me the element of surprise. I'll just sit until he comes around the corner, and then . . .
. . .
Holy crap.
I reached up and felt my face. It was dripping. My hand moved up close for examination, but I couldn't see what was on it because my eyes were stinging too badly to open them again. I opened my mouth to voice my agonizing pain, only to choke on the same liquid that was flowing from my forehead, now down my neck. I coughed, launching the stuff from my throat. As it passed over my tongue, I tensed up in fear of what I would discover, but then realized that the substance had no taste. Water . . ? I forced my eyes open, taking in the sight in front of me, filling the gaps in my knowledge of what just happened.
I saw my little sister, doubled over on the floor, shaking violently. Wha-- Wait, she was supposed to be at her friend's. I leaned over towards her, and as I did so, the water in my ears ran out of them, making room for the sound of her familiar laughter.
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