Using the crime prompt
A shuffling sound clouded my ears, and my head perked up in distress. There was no one supposed to be in my house. My parents were on a business trip to New York. And I was left alone in my house when I was eighteen. No one apart from me and my dog should have been in my house.
Footsteps...
Panic was etched across my face. I had never been in a situation where someone I didn't know was in the house. This has to be a robbery, right? I asked myself in my mind, worriedly. My mind immediately scurried to the safe in the house. Yes, I screamed in my mind. I can give the robber the money, and maybe they won't hurt me. That last thought appeared in my mind and sent shivers around my body. Until now, I hadn't considered the possibility of the robber hurting me. The fear of the unknown corrupted my mind, making me think of nothing but the fact that I could be assaulted or, worse, even killed.
The sound of nothing but my rapid breathing could be heard in my ears. Where was the robber? Why can't I hear them anymore? I pondered as alarm bells rang loudly in my head.
Suddenly, my dog started barking madly. Swiftly, I stood up and moved out of my room, my thoughts running with me. I decided I wasn't going to wait for the robber to find me and then play the sweet, innocent, young victim. I was going to turn the tables and find them instead.
Quietly, I edged my feet across the freshly cleaned carpet. I looked in the mirror at my side and saw my reflection. The latter felt like it was not me; my expression was cemented with a look of apprehension, even though my mind was set on stopping the robbery. I shook my head to alleviate my panic. I had to confront the robber. If I died, at least I would have died with dignity.
I walked carefully downstairs, into the kitchen, and grabbed a large knife. Picking it up, the metal felt wrong in my hand, but I knew I had to have something for my protection if things went sideways.
A realisation sunk in me: my dog had gone deathly quiet. The fear of what happened to him settled down on me. Why was he not barking anymore? Did the robber hurt or even kill my dog? They better not have, because I will get my revenge. Rage piled up in me at the thought of my cherished and beloved dog being hurt by the potentially dangerous robber
My mind continued to spiral with unwanted thoughts, but I shook my head to regain my concentration on the task at hand—confronting and possibly stopping the robber.
Cautiously, I tiptoed around my granite kitchen countertop and through to the living room, where I saw three robbers and not just one. Dread and terror trapped me in a compacted box as I realised my possibility of stopping the robber had shrunk to zero. There was a slim chance that I could win against one, but now there were three, and my chance of winning had depleted to nothing.
Suddenly, the three robbers turned around as if they sensed my presence. Immediately, I hid behind the wall and covered my mouth with my hand. My breathing increased as I heard a set of footsteps travel across the living room.
A footstep: my panic intensified.
A second footstep: my panic continued to fire in my body, and the hairs on my arms and legs started to awaken.
A third footstep: the hairs on my arms and legs stuck up like grass and made their presence known.
A fourth footstep: my eyes widened as I heard one of the robbers moving to where I was hiding.
I held my breath and refused to make any movement or sound. My eyes widened more, and I felt faint—like my whole world was disappearing and the ground was swallowing me up. The robber was standing to the right of me, so if they looked to the left, they would see me hiding.
