TRAUMA | LIFE | THIS HAPPENED TO ME
Stop Shaking
I awoke to the sound of breaking glass
Glass shattered in the downstairs unit of the oddly divided triplex house, a peculiar sound, resembling something forced rather than fallen.
Heavy footsteps pounded the stairs. The tenants who lived there knew the stairs were useless, serving only as a divide between dwellings. The only thing at the top of those stairs was a door that led to my living room, a door that was not accessible to tenants on either side.
Something felt wrong.
The door reverberated from a burst of abuse. The intruder was trying to get inside my apartment.
Why? Why would anyone try to break in when it was obvious people were home, both in my unit and in the third unit? All of the lights were on and the TV was blaring. It was only 10 pm.
They had to be armed to be so bold. But, still — what could they possibly want? No one in that neighborhood had money or anything of great value. Maybe they assumed my husband was away for work like he often was.
Maybe they wanted me.
I grabbed a hatchet and my husband, now ex-husband, armed himself with an aluminum baseball bat. I dialed 911, still holding the hatchet in my free hand.
