I was laying on my bed one evening while my now former husband (we were still married at the time of this story) was in the living room working on Discovery for a Client I'm glad didn't need
the assistance of a criminal lawyer.
I was snuggled in bed reading a Stephen King book my younger sister let me borrow, I'm not big with horror but COVID-19 has left me with no choice but to read horror books.
Behind our bed was a window, which I keep closed. We live in a downstairs apartment, and it always makes me uneasy that someone could break in through the window.
Especially since my husband was a racist and wasn't afraid to tell Mexicans what he thought of them.
I turned the page of the book when I heard something hit the window and I rolled my eyes. Ever since I had our child, my husband had gotten so strange.
He had started to hear voices and would blame our child.
At the time of this story, she was staying with her cousins about twenty minutes away. Often, my husband would pull some bizarre shit, so I didn't even bother to look.
Until the tapping came again and again, after a solid five minutes of tapping, I got fed up and whipped around to the window.
It was too dark to see, but I saw a man outside, in the woods that crept near our apartments, they were deep and dark in the middle of the night. I opened the window. "Stop it, Kyle!"
The bedroom door opened, and there stood my husband asking me if I had called for him. I looked back out of the window and saw the man walking closer and closer.
The man stopped right at the window peering in, and I scurried off of the bed. I backed over to my husband, when he reminded me that I had left the window open. I asked him to close it.
But he was frozen in fear. I called him a pussy, and that was me being nice and crawled back onto the bed as the man reached a hand inside of the room.
I screamed and slammed the window down on his hand.
I heard the bones crack under the window, but he pulled his hand out from under and ran into the night. I'm not sure who it was, or why he would do that.
My heart is still pounding at a frantic tempo and my legs are still the consistency of Jell-O!
For those of you in my area of Lake Forest, he was an older man - I'd say mid-sixties to early seventies, with a bald head but had hair that hung down in long white wispy strands.
His eyes were bugging and he was missing more than several teeth. Watch out.