Alone in the house, I looked out the window. Although it’s not what I saw that sent chills down my spine. It was exactly what was missing that made my skin crawl. The window was unlocked, and footprints were laid beneath outside. Someone had been in the house, but I lived alone... I had just gotten home from work and had cuddled up on my worn couch with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. I did as I do everyday and switched on the TV to the channel 7 news. Normally it was just background stimulation until reality shows started at 8 and I could unwind with mindless entertainment. Today there was a special on a murder of a 23 year old girl only minutes from me. “ On January 22nd of 2012, Casey Matthews was brutally murdered in her hometown after spending the evening alone in her parents house. Neighbors said they didn’t hear the brutal screams expected from the injury she suffered but DNA samples suggest...” I was half listening but mostly focused on my social media accounts I was surfing. All of my friends had went out to celebrate a birthday, but I was backed up with work and school and decided to stay home. If only I would have been less proactive... Finally, I mustered up the courage to move onto my essay that was due and stared at the screen yearning for some sort of idea to be sparked, but nothing was coming. After suffering for what seemed like ages I decided to take a break. The same news channel was on. They were still broadcasting the special. After a few moments I started to hear what sounded like a grown man’s laugh coming from the window. This was when I realized what I mentioned before. No one was there at first, but, as I moved closer to the unlocked window, which seemed like the right thing to do at the time, I could make out a tall male figure staring back at me. I realized the news was still on. “ The alleged suspect is a tall 22 year old white male who is said to have short brown hair…” The man was walking closer and with each step I became more paralyzed because the description on the TV seemed to match the stranger. “He was wearing…” A red band sweatshirt and jeans matched what I had just heard, and now my eyes were staring at what seemed to be him in the flesh. “The man is also known to have a scar above his right eye.” He was now what seemed like feet away, and my house light confirmed the mark above his eye. I didn’t know whether to run, but even if I had decided to I don’t know if I would have made it very far because it’s then that I realized I was indeed staring at his reflection. The glare on the window confirmed, I was not alone in the house.