Alone I am home alone. My parents are at work and it is precisely 7pm. Pitch black darkness surrounds me as I bundle up on a desk chair before the dim-lit computer. The silence of everything frightens me so of course I scurry over to the coffee table, snatching the remote and turning on the television; burying myself in my thick quilt once again, I switch channels to the news. "Murderer on the loose" I read the bold capitals as they flash by just below the news lady on the flatscreen. In fear I turn my face to analyze all the windows, resting my sight at the glass sliding doors which lead to the back yard. There. Stood right in the snow in my own back yard, a tall man. His grin and slumped stature sent shivers crawling down my adolescent spine. I scrambled my pajama pockets for my cellphone, punching in the numbers '911' my sweaty palms held it at my ear and I looked back at the thick glass doors, he was closer. "Shit. Please pick up. Fuck-please..." I whispered desperately to the droning dial tone. But when I looked back at the doors once more, I dropped my cellphone in a frenzied panic. There were no footprints in the snow... It took me about five seconds to process that... I was staring at his reflection.