Thirteen Things I Learned not to do During a Live Home Invasion--a strange story in listicle form.

 

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1. Fart.

Bro, I’m human. Sometimes my body does things when I’m nervous. Three in the morning and a couple guys are creeping down the hallway outside my room? Yeah, I’m about to let loose the goddamn Kraken. But that shit was like a homing beacon. Before I knew it, they were turning the doorknob to my room. So I quickly hid under the bed.

2. Hide under the bed.

Bro. Again, don’t hate. Unless it’s happened to you, don’t hate. Didn’t take 'em long to find me. Once the light was on, it was pretty much oh, I see a hand under the bed. There were two men in dark hoodies and nasty masks, one big and one small. So I did the first thing that occurred to me, which was to snatch my hand back, out of the light.

3. Snatch your hand back once it’s been seen.

Man, I coulda played dead, I coulda spazzed all around like I was having a seizure, I coulda done all sorts of things. But I chose to snatch my hand back. Then bro said oh, the hand just disappeared. Yeah, along with the contents of my bladder.

4. Wet yourself.

I was, after all, probably about to die. Once these cats saw the pee running out from under the bed, they definitely knew I was there. Also, now I was wet and about to be embarrassed and about to probably die. But, I didn’t have to go number one anymore.

5. Lie about your age.

How am I supposed to think or remember facts in a situation like that? Big dude grabbed me and stood me up, asked how old I was. Thirty-four, I said. Bro, I was twelve. Shoulda heard 'em laugh. That’s what woke mom and dad up.

6. Wake mom and dad up.

They wasn't prepared for what they was about to see. Mom came in first, asking if I was okay. Dad was close behind, grumbling about it being three in the fucking morning and this had better be good. Bros hid behind the door and closed it once my parents were inside. How had this happened? Moments earlier I had been sleeping, dreaming of new wheels for my bike. These wheels had so many spokes, you couldn’t see through them. Now, I was standing in a puddle of my own piss with mom and dad and the bros and we were all gonna die. I didn’t know what else to do, so I screamed Kill Them! at the top of my lungs.

7. Scream Kill Them! at the top of your lungs.

The smaller bro said good idea and shot both my parents dead. They plopped to the floor like they was made of lead. There was no bounce like in the movies. My dad’s eyes were open and I was the last thing he saw. I couldn’t look away, man. It was like he was still seeing me. I just kept staring and staring into them, even as they began to lose their luster and go flat, dull.

8. Keep staring into a dead parent’s eyes.

This one became expensive as an adult. Therapy has helped, but there have been too many nights I wake up in a sweat, gripping the sheets, that image burned into my psyche like a goat head sticker you can't get out of your sock. I recommend just looking away.

9. Hit a grown, armed man.

Anyway, the big dude finally yelled at me loud enough it broke my spell, and I looked at him, instead. I couldn’t hear his words. I only felt rage and fear and hate. The fuck was I gonna do, twelve years old in the hood with no mom or dad? So I hit the guy, right in his bitch mouth. Hard, too. He fell backward and dropped his stupid gun. I saw an opportunity, bro, so I went for the piece.

10. Go for the gun.

Like I said, it wasn't the same as the movies. Shit was moving in slow motion. The harder the muscles pumped in my legs, the slower I seemed to actually move toward the gun, like in a nightmare dream. Small dude caught me quick, before I’d even gone a couple feet. He shook me like I was about to drop money or somethin’ and then he said Do you see what you made us do? My fucking god, kid, your parents are dead! He was silent a few moments, and then he began to laugh. On and on he went, harder and harder, until he was barely gripping my arms. I glanced toward the window, and an idea occurred. I had to jump out.

11. Jump out the window.

Bro, I broke free from homie and ran like Kobe about to win the whole thing. I felt hands on my pajama pants but I was in the air, sailing toward the window. I didn’t even hear the glass break. But I felt that landing, know what I mean? My room was on the second story. Busted my leg all up. I still limp.

12. Bust your leg all up.

Seeing as I only managed to get about twenty feet away before I cracked like a vase, broken bones are to be avoided at all cost. Even if you're not in an active home invasion. The shit hurts. In fact, it hurt so bad and I was so worked up, when I saw the bros come out the house I just passed the fuck out.

13. Pass the fuck out.

This allowed the burglars complete access to me, and I ended up living with them for nearly eight years at an abandoned farmhouse somewhere outside town, where I was a sex slave and chore worker. And I suppose you thought your childhood was bad.