The winner rises, only to fall

My heart was beating in my throat.

Fuck fuck fuck. Why did I have to make it known to the world that I was now rolling in it?

I crouch behind my door, back to the wall. Luckily my dad always told me to keep a weapon next to your bed, just in case and I had to chosen a baseball bat because that’s the obvious answer so I’m clutching on it, my knuckles white. My breathing is erratic, all I can see is white dots flashing on the back of my eyelids, I can feel my heart beat pulsating across my scalp. Shit shit shit.

There was another bang from downstairs, they sound like they smashing the place up. I hear one of the singing but can’t tell what it is they are singing. Someone else shouts to try shout him up. There’s another bang and woman’s scream. 3 people at least, 3 intruders in my damn house and only 1 of me, with a baseball bat.. great.

I hate social media, damn thing is always out to get me. I remember I shared a story that Piers Morgan wrote, that I didn’t read but the headline was catching and it got me in some right shit with my friends and family, my mother didn’t actually talk to me for a couple of days and now look what’s happened, I’m getting burgled! It must be because of my post no? I mean I was stupid enough to post a picture of me with my winning lottery ticket, outside my house, door number and everything. I wouldn’t have been hard to guess what street it was on considering I always post videos and selfies from around the area. I am proud of my 50,000 followers but right now I hate them. How can they just break into someone’s house and do that to someone?

I guess the good news is that the winning ticket was under bed. Hang on, but what’s going to happen when they don’t find it downstairs? Fuck shit bastard. I quickly move from where I’m perched and fetch my little black book from my bed side table and call him. He always said to call him in times of need and surely this would constitute as a time in need.

I dial the number and wait for him to answer, it connects and a deep voice states

‘Access code’

‘Geronimo’ I pant

‘Ah Katie, nice to hear from you, what can I do from you?’ the voice changes all of sudden. He sounds happy somehow even though it’s 2am in the morning and surely I’ve woken him up?

‘Rodge, I’m being burgled, there’s people downstairs ransacking my place, what do I do? I’m pretty sure they are after my winnings, you know, my £20,000 – I won it on the lotto, you should get involved – but they’re not going to find it down there and it’s with me, under my bed. I’m fucked, can you help me? Please, I’m begging you’ I end up sobbing

‘Oh Katie you fool, I’ll be over right away. Barricade yourself in your room, be as quiet as you can and for god sake, don’t engage’

He hangs up pretty fast and I’m left with the sound of my panting and tears running down my face. I feel scared. I feel hot. I eventually stand up and creep over to my vanity and pick up my chair, it’s pretty solid and I’m only small so it takes some doing picking it up and moving it, I end up knocking into my bed and stubbing my toe. I let out of a groan but quickly shut up, not wanting to let out a scream in case it’s heard. I stop what I’m doing and listen out for any movement. I hear nothing… shit that’s bad! They must have heard me and know that I’m awake now. I rush over to the door with my chair and shove the top of the back of the chair under the handle, I’ve seen this in films, that’s what they do and it works right?

I bound backwards and fetch my baseball bat from my bed, I carry on pacing back to the wall on the far side of the room, away from the door. I mumble to myself

‘for fuck sake’