Tuesday's Gone

This past Tuesday would have been a strange night regardless of what happened to me at 3:30am, because the evening started out with me baking. Anyone who knows me can tell you that me baking is a rarity but, as my boyfriend said "you know it's a crazy night when the weirdest thing that happened wasn't you making an apple crisp".



I actually made three, and after cooking one, freezing one and fridging one I watched a few episodes of a tv show and went to bed. I'll give you the setup. My bedroom has two windows framing the fireplace. One of the windows is actually my fire escape exit, a special door-sized window that cranks open. I have curtains over the windows but they're transparent. My bed is against the opposite wall, and I have a nightlight on near the head of my bed because I've always been scared of the dark. I'm sleeping on my stomach, facing away from my bedroom windows towards the wall. My phone is on the bed in my eyeline, and my dog is asleep at the foot of my bed (where she belongs).

I wake up to the sound of Dani barking more ferociously than I've ever heard her and loud banging coming from outside on my fire escape. I initially think I should move, but realize that whoever is outside is not one of the other people in my house. Not only would they not be awake at that time, but they don't use the fire escape because it's been incredibly icy, and when they do they're never making that much noise. I just lay there with a growing sense of panic because whoever is out there can see me lying in bed. I pretend to sleep even though he's banging on my window and Dani is losing her mind and growling while standing over top of me. I know he can see me because of the night light, but I can't see him because I'm still facing the wall. I can just feel eyes on me. He moves away from my window for a moment and I can hear him banging on my neighbour's door. I grab my phone, jump out of bed and sit in the hallway. Dani's still on the bed but I've gotten her to quiet down. The person comes back to my window and starts banging again. My texts to my boyfriend in that time period read:

"Someone is currently banging around on my fire escape"
"I am so frigging freaked out"
"I can hear breaking glass and stuff being thrown around"
"Now it sounds like they're at (housemate's name)'s apartment"
"I don't have her number in my new phone. I'm too scared to go back in my room or make any noise to call someone"
"I'm sitting on the floor in the dark leaning against the pink side table by the door with no idea what to do"


"Now there's complete silence. I'm too scared to crawl into the bedroom"
"There's no sound at all. But that doesn't mean the person isn't literally staring through my window. Dani is on high alert too, still growling. She lost it initially. (Housemate's name) hasn't been using the fire escape and it was really loud. I've heard people go up and down it before. This is different."
"I used my car keys to lock my door over and over, thought that the noise might freak them out and then they went completely silent for a whole minute before banging around again."
"I'm calling my dad"
"I'm calling 911."

During those texts I sat by my door away from the windows, wondering if my call would be loud enough that whoever was outside would hear me talking. I called my dad's phone and it went straight to voicemail. At this point I may have reached the peak of my fear, because for a second I thought someone could jam my phone. I called my mom's cell, which she doesn't always answer because she's deaf in one ear, but she answered right away and I told them what was happening and my dad told me immediately to call the police. He said "hang up now and dial 911."

I got Dani to come to me and she laid on my lap while I spoke to dispatch and explained what I was hearing. I told her how to get to the parking lot where the fire escape stairs are (the entrance is on a different street from my address). Dispatch asked if I felt comfortable going up to my window and looking out. I said no. She told me they were on their way and hung up. I put my phone on vibrate and just sat there with Dani listening as hard as I could and praying that my housemate was okay. I got a call back from dispatch four minutes later telling me that police were on site, and could I flash my bedroom lights so that they knew which place was mine? Now the noises I heard outside were police, and I feel a huge wave of relief pour over me. I was not going to die. I'm going to be okay.

Now a sense of embarrassment comes over me. I'm this single young girl living on my own calling the police over what could have just been raccoons. Did I really hear breaking glass or was that just ice coming off the stairs? Maybe they weren't banging on my window, maybe they're just a friend of a housemate. As I grow more and more sure of my paranoia, I get my final call from dispatch again asking me to let the police into the apartment. The door to the building is normally locked but for some reason that night it wasn't, so when I open my door to go let them in, they're already coming up the stairs. Dani, having been overstimulated for the past half hour, goes full attack dog and I have to hold her back. To her credit, the 4 police officers coming up the stairs took a collective step back. I told them she was friendly, let her go and she just sniffed them (bark>bite).

They troop inside my place and they say they've taken a look outside and no one is there. Oh. Then they say "do you own a car out back" and I say "yes" and they say "well, someone dropped a cinder block on it from the roof". And there it is. Total validation. I was right. Someone really did try to break in, someone was throwing things, someone vandalized my car and terrorized me for half an hour while I sat in the dark wondering if I would be able to save my dog if he got in and tried to hurt her.

First I make sure that the police check on my housemate, and then I had to go outside and get the insurance out of my car. This is when I see the damage. Someone dropped a pretty big cinder block and it landed square on the roof of my car. The dent is almost a foot deep.  I actually laugh out loud. Validation. We all head back inside and they take my statement again. At this point it's 4:30am. They've found another car with its sunroof smashed out and they think whoever is running around is still out there. I've gotten weirdly giddy, cracking jokes and oversmiling. I think it was a combination of relief and the knowledge that I was right. The police left, I called my parents and my boyfriend, and fell asleep around 7am.

I woke up at 11am and just laid there thinking of what had happened. I kept thinking back not to the sounds I heard but to how absolutely terrified I was. Even now, two days later I'm having trouble coming to grips with it. It could have been so much worse.

Now, in the light of day, I can try and see the situation logically. They caught the person early Wednesday morning (which was still my Tuesday night at that point). It was a 16 year old boy who was already on probation. He was high. For me, this just made the situation sadder. How hard of a childhood does someone have to have that they're already on probation by 16? That no one reports them missing when they're vandalizing the neighbourhood at 4am? It also made it a little scarier. What would have happened if he'd gotten in? Someone making that much noise isn't trying to burglarize. They're not concerned about getting caught. They're doing whatever they want. And he wanted in.

I wrote this post because I wasn't sure how to tell people what happened, but I still wanted people to know. I also wanted them to understand that even though now it may seem like a laughable situation, I legitimately wondered that night if I was going to be raped or killed. I might brush it off if you bring it up in person, but it was the scariest night of my life and I'll carry it with me. I will ask "what if?" for a while. I don't really feel traumatized and I slept just fine last night (although you can bet I'm going to buy new curtains), but I want people to understand. If someone in your life has gone through a traumatic experience, try not to belittle it. Let them talk if they want to or joke about it if they want to, but remain sensitive. I'm okay and I feel this way, so imagine what it feels like for someone who was traumatized by their experience (and by the way, it's not the severity of the situation that dictates trauma but rather the person's reaction to it).

I also want everyone to know that if they think, even for a heartbeat, that they should call the police, DO IT. You never know. If your gut is saying something is off, you're probably right. In that split second that I woke up, I just knew something was wrong, that it wasn't a housemate or a friend. I had a bad feeling and I rolled with that instead of explaining it away.

That's all I really have to say on it. I'm glad I'm okay and that my housemate is okay. I hope that the boy responsible gets help instead of punishment. I'm asking you to be sensitive to the experiences of those around you. I'm asking you to trust your instincts and take yourself seriously.

Stay safe.

(As a side note, the Saint John police officers did an amazing job that night. On site within 5 minutes, thorough check, constant reassurance. I hope we don't lose them to RCMP. I told them I felt a bit stupid calling 911 and they told me repeatedly that they'd rather come to a false alarm than miss a serious situation every single time. They told me to always call. The night was a horrible experience but they were a good one.)