The Robbery in Apartment 12

I went to unlock my apartment door and realized it was already opened. Did I forget to shut it all the way? Has my mother stopped by? My heart kicked against my ribs as the door creaked open.

“Mom? Is anyone here?” I whispered, praying she would answer.

The lamp lay sideways, flickering light across the wreckage. What do I have that someone would want? They must have the wrong guy. Maybe Pete Gurken finally got the nerve to face me and still chickened out. Yeah, that’s it. Instead he trashed my place, the moron.

There was a sudden clatter in the kitchen.

“Who’s that? Who’s there?” I panicked.

Nothing could stop my heart from ripping through my chest now. Cold sweat dripped over my eyebrows, burning my eyes. If only I had taken that concealed weapons permit class; a weapon would do me some good right about now. A broom smacked the ground in the hallway, echoing through the apartment. I grabbed a kitchen knife.

“I’m armed. If you try anything funny, you’re dead.”

Could I kill someone in self-defense? What if it was my mom? Would it be self-defense? Ten minutes ago I was having the best day of my life. It’s a good thing I didn’t bring Jenny here to “show off my apartment.”

I crawled across the floor, listening for more noises. Food had been sprawled all over the floor, like guts from wounded soldiers. Someone was definitely looking for something. I got back to my feet, when I reached the hallway. I stepped over the fallen broom. Saluting it as if it had died in battle. Silence.

I couldn’t hear anything. I peered into the bathroom but nothing was touched.

“The bedroom,” I whispered. I had a safe under the bed with maybe ten dollars and a toy racecar my grandpa gave me when I was six. What could this crook possibly be looking for?

The blinds banged off the wall, crashing onto the desk beneath. I eased against the wall like a ninja, like a spy about to get his man. Would a knife suffice? The crook still believes I’m armed, right? I peeked into my bedroom, following the broken blinds to the dirty floor (pretty sure that was already a mess) and eyed the edged of my bed.

“So you think you can hide under there, do you?” I taunted the captive as I jumped onto the bed, grabbing the bedding to uncover the thief.

“HIISSSS!”

I screamed, as a raccoon scurried across the floor. I collapsed onto my bed and hyperventilated for a few minutes, while the animal escaped. As I composed myself, I burst up laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. I called my mom and told her I loved her and just lay there, pondering about nothing for a minute. Then, from down the hall, a door creaked open and the lights turned black.

I wasn’t alone. There was an accomplice.