I was pleasantly drifting in and out of sleep when all of a sudden a "heard" a noise. My heart spiked to attack mode, beating furiously within my chest, and I pulled the covers up around me as I tried to decipher what exactly I had heard. Was it the door? Then it must be Jake.
My timid voice could be heard calling out his name a few times. No answer. Why is he home already? He just left for work. Is he sick? Is it even him? My mind started reeling. What if it's not him? What if it was a break-in? I silently sent up a quick, terrified prayer to God.
Now sweating profusely, I lay there immobilized, trying to devise the best plan. I will have to get out of the side of the bed farthest from the door, just in case the attacker whips it open and finds me standing right there. Now for a decent pair of attacking clothes to put on over top of my pajamas...ah, there's that sweater. And where is a baseball bat when you need one?
Still working my way over to the door, I was, by now, scrambling for some sort of weapon. Why are Jake's swords affixed to the wall all the way out in the living room? I grumbled to myself, understanding now how such pieces would be useful to me. Gazing over the room, I was thinking about what Lisbeth Salander* would use in my position. I didn't have a tazer or a can of Mace, but I did have a bottle of mousse. That's gotta hurt if hit hard enough, right? I tested it against my palm a few times, and, finding it to be durable, I began my search mission for the intruder.
Cautiously opening my bedroom door, I peered into the darkened living room, and slowly flicked on some lights. By this point, my sweaty palms were making me doubt my choice of weapon, and I readjusted the bottle of mousse, careful to leave it in my strong hand, and tightened my grip. I tackled the most obvious scary part first: the hall closet. Small that it may be, it's big enough to hide a willing burglar. Getting into prime swatting position, I flung open the door with gusto, and found the vacuum sitting there like a good little appliance should.
Finally, the bathroom was the only room left. When illuminated, I could only see some calcium buildup on the bathtub, and my heart finally slowed down to a manageable pace. Once out in the living room, I quickly checked behind the couch and the curtain, and finding them both to be empty spaces, I put back my mousse and decided to start hiding a knife under my pillow like Lara Croft.
*A crime-fighting self-defence master; otherwise known as the 'girl with the dragon tattoo'.