There's Someone Outside my Front Door
I’m a simple female with simple needs and simple emotions. The time is currently 4:46 PM, and I’m home alone, with no power. I have my laptop running on reserve battery, I’ve turned the brightness down to as low as possible and even switched to eco mode. I’m simply documenting this on word because I need to get my mind off of my current situation to the best of my abilities. If I die today, I pray someone will read this. If I live, this might make a cool blog post, seeing as of right now the internet is out as well.
Let me tell you how it’s going so far, and if I’m going to be completely honest I’m pretty fucking scared. It’s only been an hour now, but that man won’t leave. He’s been standing outside my front door, completely still, for an entire sixty minutes.
I’ve been home all day since I don’t have class on Fridays. I don’t know where he came from or how long he had been there, but in my house all the doors to the outside ultimately lead to the front yard, where he’d probably see me and kill me, or worse. He appeared after, or maybe just before, a loud thud came from the roof. I assumed it had something to do with the power cables because not a moment later my power went out and now this guy won’t leave.
I figure he had this all planned or my mind was, like my computer, running on reserve power. It was more like reserve fear and stupidity but I can’t help but glance over my shoulder every few minutes, wondering if I’ll hear the inevitable squeak of the stairs as someone walks on them. I just felt a shiver run down my spine.
The most devastating part is that I can’t call anyone, the phones in my house are dead due to no power and I accidentally left my cell in my car. I hadn’t realized that I left it plugged into the stereo, aux cord and all. Since I parked outside, I was naturally screwed.
Despite being here all alone, I was praying one of my parents would get off early so they could come home and see that I was trapped in here. Stuck at the mercy of whoever was at my front door and that they would call the police immediately.
The sun is starting to go down. I’m relieved that it’s nearing the time they got off work, but who knows how he’ll move around in the dark?
I have my door locked shut, and my dresser moved to block it. When the power went out I went downstairs to see if the power breaker had failed when out of the corner of my eye I saw through the glass door a faint shadow of dark clothes.
I waited for someone to ring the bell but he made no indication of letting me know he was there. So I took a wide arch around the stairs towards the door and peaked out the front windows where I wouldn’t be seen. He was too close to the door for me to tell, but from the inside he seemed to be practically leaning against it, and right then I felt the first nips of fear bite at the back of my neck.
The power is still off. And I’m still scared. I should look to see if he’s still there or not. I should, but I don’t want to, I really truly don’t want to. What if he was tricking me? What if I open my door and he’s standing right there?
No. Deep breaths. I have to know. I guess people will know if I come when they read this.
The light is almost completely gone now. Fuck daylight savings time. That guy is still there. What does he want? Why is just standing there? Does he have a problem with me? Do I even know him?
I found that between typing and my jittery nerves half of the keys being pressed is backspace. I’m pressing too many keys and my palms are so disgustingly sweaty that I think they’re starting to smell like the locker rooms.
I’m doing my best to ignore my gross hands as they are the least of my problems. A few minutes ago I found my mouth filled with the taste of nail polish and iron. I had looked down appalled to see that I had been chewing on a hangnail out of nervous habit and it was starting to bleed.
My intincts told me to go the bathroom and clean up, but I realize now just how focused I had been on documenting this experience that there was a possibility that he had slipped passed me and is now outside my door with a sharp yet for some reason rusted knife. I don’t know why it would be that specific, but in this situation all I could think of is seeing someone in a clown mask or something alike creeping up the stairs, weapon in hand and ready to strike.
Of course this is all hypothetical, I’m just worried. Still though I think my hand could wait. I need to do something to keep my mind off of this. I thought writing this out would make me feel better but it’s actually making me feel worse.
No. God please, please help. I’m so fucking scared. I swear I heard him move. I fucking swear that when I looked over my railing his head tilted up to look at me. In that brief moment I could see his black hair in the rays of a passing car and his pale skin through the blurry glass. I could now clearly see that he was, in fact, leaning against the door in an almost uncomfortable manner.
I had raced back to my room, shutting the door with renewed vigor. My heart is still beating very hard and very loud, and I swear it’s going to break right through my ribcage or pump so much blood that it starts coming out of my pounding ears.
The encounter only lasted mere seconds, but as I look back on it I’m swearing at myself for even thinking it’d be a good idea to check.
I just looked at the clock. It’s only 6:15. My mom will be home at 7:00. Just a little longer. I’ve been passing the time by looking at the clock and practicing the ancient art of reading books. Otherwise, I had nothing else to do in my room.
I don’t want to be here.
I don’t want to die in this house or in this room. I don’t want to die until I’m good and ready. But that bastard won’t leave. What does he want? What does that little shit want? I don’t know where my courage came from but a moment ago I had raced down the steps, grabbed the biggest knife I could find and, feeling my adrenaline dissipate, ran like a bat out of hell to get back to the safety of my room.
At least now I had a weapon.
I had some form of self-defense I guess. But as I ran I saw him looking at me. His head turned in my direction, and I swear I saw his body sway a little as the background flashed by me in my haste for my room.
And though I had a knife now, I really, really had to pee. Why couldn’t I have used that courage to shit in my toilet rather than in my pants? I’ll never understand the human brain.
I’m trying to calm down. It’s not working. I’m practically glaring at the time on my laptop. The seconds are ticking by like an eternity, moving as if every second I stare is actually a year in real time.
I’m secretly starting to wonder if some higher being placed me in this slow time bubble just to mess with me, because for some bizzare reason he or she needed some entertainment.
I’m shaking my head right now trying to clear the crazy from it. I want to be convinced it’s just the fear but I’ve never made a good argument.
Shit what was that?
I think I just heard another thud.
Why aren’t they home yet? Did he plan to get them too? Are my parents splayed out on the road like broken ragdolls? Please be okay please be okay. I need them like fucking I don’t know like a fish and water or something. I need my parents I need the police. I need to live.
I’m crying now, to whoever reads this, I’m crying furiously. I can’t write like this it’s too hard to see but my fingers are typing so unforgivingly fast I think I’m beginning to cramp. It could be any minute now though. He could bust down that door and I can save and shut down the laptop and hopefully he won’t care enough to look at it as he murders me.
Oh god what’s happening now? The winds have picked up and I hear him start to bang his hands against the door. God why is he doing this? Why is hitting the door like that? I cringe at each soft thud, it sounds like he’s ramming the whole damn thing with his body. Why is he doing this? Why won’t he stop?
The sweat from my hands as I had mentioned earlier are now dripping little pools onto my keyboard, and I’m shaking so hard and I can just barely type. My feet feel rooted even as I desperately need a glass of water for my dry throat.
Please come home soon. Please. Please. Please.
They still aren’t here. Where are they? I’m really beginning to panic now. I was able to hold it together under the hope that they’d come home, call the police from the safety of their car and I would be rescued. But they aren’t here.
No one’s coming to rescue me are they? I’m all alone. Shit did they plan this? I know I can be annoying but did they plan to have me murdered in the house I grew up in? Why would they do that? No, they’re my parents. The people who raised me, why would they do that?
Unless it was because of that.
Is my mom still mad that I’m having sex? I mean for fuck’s sake I’m nineteen. I can do as I please right? Or is just hiding her anger secretly? Had she been planning this since the first time she learned a year ago about what I had been doing?
But why? It’s a natural part of life right? And I’m loyal to my boyfriend. We’ve been together for four years now. Oh god, my boyfriend! What will he do when he finds out I’m dead? When he learns of my parent’s conspiracy? Will they kill him too? Will they hide it like a horrible accident? Why would they do this why would
He’s hitting the door again.
He’s still there.
I’m not going to look.
I feel like I’m starting to lose it.
I’m still alone. Why aren’t my parent’s home yet? Maybe I should make a run for it. I should go. Both the cars in the garage are gone but if I run out I might be able to unlock my car and hop in before he catches me.
I’m still looking over my shoulder every few seconds.
I need to make up my mind. I need to get out of here. I feel my lips as they squish together. Whoever reads this should know that I didn’t mean what I said about my parents. I think I’m just too scared.
I’ll wait a little while longer. If no one shows running for it might be a better option than sitting here scared. If I succeed than I can get as far away from him as possible.
I’m still alone. I don’t think rescue is coming.
I’ve gotten over the weird idea that my parents are doing this. I think because it’s Friday that they’re just out. I’m a “big girl” so they probably didn’t bother telling me.
It’s so late, but I can feel my mind making its decision as I write. Here’s my half-baked plan so far: I’m going to ease my way down the stairs, grab my shoes and forgo my coat, grab my keys and open the garage door. I’m then going to haul ass to my car and lock the doors pronto. I’ve decided to attach my long unused lanyard and tie it to my wrist so in the event that it falls from my sweaty hands it won’t fall too far.
My battery is running very low on my computer and the power is still gone in my house. This is my only shot.
Here goes nothing.
The plan worked.
But I noticed something strange, and saw a sight that is now forever burned into my retinas.
The police are still outside, detangling the mess. I told them about my experience and how I had written it all on my computer. They told me go ahead and finish up with what just happened, so here I am again.
It’s hard to concentrate with all the noises outside, but it’s much more comforting than the eerie silence that had filled the void hours ago.
Let me just get to the point, I can feel the bags under my eyes growing the harder I think. Okay, so when I got to my car I started the ignition and felt a brief moment of triumph. I backed up and hastily turned on my lights and they immediately went to the brightest setting due to my shaking hands.
From the way I had been positioned in the driveway I could immediately see the man’s body fully. I saw him leaning against the door at an irregular angle, as if he were merely slumped and tired and ready to take a nap. I was incredibly ready to nail the gas pedal to the floor and peel out in reverse when I noticed the first sign that something was wrong.
The man was swinging softly and my harsh lights had been glaring off something black around his neck. I didn’t know what it was and my hands had tightened around the wheel as my anxiety rose. He didn’t move, didn’t even turn to look at me. And then I noticed where the black thing was coming from. It was going up, I had followed its path and saw a small spark from above before feeling sick to my stomach.
At the time it felt like an impossible theory to grasp. I couldn’t understand for the life of me how it had happened. But before I could process anymore I remembered that I had left my phone in the console and noticed that there was a single, glorious bar of signal. I punched in the three numbers as fast as I could.
What had happened was that the man had fallen from the cables above my house. Why he was up there I have yet to find truly find out, but the theory was that he was doing a checkup because a neighbor was complaining about the wind knocking the branches into the cables and causing blackouts in their house. I was told that one of the weaker cords had snapped, surprising him. The police told me that it caused him to jump and slip, out of fear he grabbed the end and what had killed him was the electricity. Since he was holding onto the cable, it had mysteriously wrapped around his neck as he fell, and hung him outside my front door.
And when I had realized he had been dead the whole time, swaying the breeze, I started to cry. I didn’t stop until the sun started to rise.