You’re Not Welcome
“When I was nine years old, my sister and I were doing swimming classes together at our community pool. One evening, after my mom had picked us up from the pool, she told us to get ready to go to the grocery store. So, I went upstairs to shower and get the chlorinated water off me before we left home. My sister was changing in our room. While I was in the shower, I heard someone come into the bathroom and start rummaging through the drawers.
I asked what my sister was looking for because I couldn’t see through the frosted glass and, at that point, I assumed it was her looking for something for her hair. It wasn’t. All of a sudden, this strange man jumped into the shower with me, pulled off his shirt, and draped it over my head. I screamed at the top of my lungs and crouched down into a ball to protect myself.
My incessant screaming and squirming scared the guy off after a few seconds. He jumped out and ran out the back door. Seconds later, my dad came bolting into the room to see if I was okay. I was scared out of my mind, but thankfully I was okay. Unbeknownst to us, earlier in the day, an employee of ours had left the front door open while doing some work outside and a man snuck into our home. This man had secretly been hiding inside our house all day long. I was too traumatized to go into the bathroom by myself for like a year and a half after that.”