Home Alone | Teen Ink

Home Alone

April 10, 2023
By BananaN3rd ELITE, Clarksville, Tennessee
BananaN3rd ELITE, Clarksville, Tennessee
108 articles 9 photos 14 comments

Favorite Quote:
If the pen is stronger than the sword, what am I supposed to do when the pen declares a war?


I remember waking up at two in the morning, groggy and hungry. After eating some leftover mac and cheese, I went back to my room and plugged in my earbuds. Halfway through my movie, my phone buzzed. “Who’s at the door?”

I ran downstairs to see who it was. I hadn’t invited anyone. Besides, it was almost three in the morning. Who would be ringing the doorbell at this hour? I paused while reaching for the lock. I heard whispering, and I crouched beside my window, peeking outside.

Three men, along with a rusted van waited outside of my house, with masks on their faces. I was getting robbed. I heard them pound on the door, before starting to pry the wood off with a crowbar. I hid inside a large laundry basket, looking into the dim room with nothing more than a small crack to peek through.

My phone buzzed. Crap. I had left it on the table before hiding. “Hey! Someone’s here!” One of them called, scanning around the room. I held my breath, too afraid to even blink. “I can’t see the damn message. Kid must have left his phone locked.”

“What if they left it here by accident? No one’s home.” The other one suggested, looking in my direction. I was almost certain that they could hear my heartbeat, hear my thoughts. This was it. I was going to die here.

After what felt like hours, the men left the room, and me in it. I wanted to grab my phone, call my mom, or the police. Any would work about now. I kept hiding, and after a while, the police arrived. My mother must have wanted the security footage and called the police.

I still hid, just in case one of the men had a gun stowed away or something. But as I unhid myself, I walked into the other room, thinking an officer would be there, but the door closed behind me, and I was shoved to the ground.

“Little boy, let’s have a chat, shall we?” A man asked, his foul breath filling my nostrils and giving me chills. “I’m not leaving until you pay for what you did. You did this!” He punched me in the face, sending me tumbling to the ground.

I couldn’t fight him off; I was only ten then. I couldn’t fight what looked to be a 200-pound man. He laughed and punched me in the head, and my world went black.

I woke up in a hospital bed but couldn’t hear anything. People surrounded me, talking, yelling, but still, the silence was deafening.

“Two weeks. . . awake . . . concussion . . . a miracle . . .” Words flitted through my mind, piece by piece. A woman I didn’t recognize hugged me and smiled when I looked up at her.

“Who are you?” I whispered, and her eyes went wide. She stepped back, smile fading, as she looked at the man beside her.

“Sweetie, we’re your parents.” 

“But my parents are . . .” I paused, trying to remember what my parents looked like. Nothing. My mind was blank. What the hell had happened to me? “Did I die? Did the robber kill me?”

The two looked at each other, shaking their heads. “Darling, that was two weeks ago. You got a concussion, and . . .”

My vision blurred, and I passed out again.

The man smiled again. “Oh, you’re awake again. Ready for round two?”


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