Of Thieves and Fear

I had felt fear before, of course. It is a normal response when one uproots from the home they knew and move to an area they have never been to. But this was a new, different fear. I stared at the dresser and the dust outline. Someone had been in my apartment, someone stole my television and my DVD player.

My cat Sagria continues to cry at me. The phone continues to emit Cory’s voice. I have no idea what he was saying, but I interrupted him. “My television is gone.”

There is a pause, then “What?”

“My television and DVD player are gone.” Finally, I move. There is fear and rage as I drop the bag of food onto my floor. Sagria jumps back so that the bag doesn’t fall on her. I stride to the window, but the glass is not broken. The door had been locked, so whomever came in did not come through there.

“Don’t touch anything!” He snaps at me. “I’m on my way. I’ll call my brother and see what we should do.” There is a rustle in the background. He must be getting dressed.

“I have to call my parents.” It hits me that I had suspected someone had been in here before. That if I had done something when I first suspected, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened again.

“Call them while I call my brother. Don’t touch anything.” We hang up and I dial my mother’s number. It is late, but I can’t help that. The fear was overriding the rage but I NEEDED MY MOTHER! The phone rang and rang but she didn’t answer. Who else could I call? I quickly remembered that my older brother lived there. I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Gruff and wary, to be expected. He doesn’t really talk to his sisters, so it would be unusual to get a late night call.

“I need you to get mom. My apartment was broken into again.” My voice was starting to waver.

“What?”

“GET MOM!” What was so hard to understand? “MY APARTMENT WAS BROKEN INTO!”

“Stop yelling!” He snapped at me. I started taking great gulps of air. Does he really not understand how I’m feeling? I hear him walk up the stairs, a door is opened, and voices are murmuring.

“Hello?” My mother’s voice is a relief.

“Mom.” I try to breathe. I try to tell her what has happened.

“Take a breathe, and slowly tell me what is going on.” I do as she says and tell her again what has happened. “Okay. You need to call 911.” I tell her that Cory is on his way and I don’t want to be alone. “Okay, wait for him. But don’t touch anything.”

Finally, it becomes too much. I drop down onto the carpet in the middle of my small studio apartment. Sagria climbs into my lap. “I’m sitting in the middle of the floor. Is it okay if I eat my food at least?” Sarcasm might not be what is needed right now, but it makes her feel somewhat better. My mother gives a soft laugh and gives me the affirmative. She speaks to me as we wait for Cory to arrive. Eating while crying is quite hard. I am determined to get myself under control, but it is easier thought than done. My hands shake and I give up after a couple of bites.

When Cory arrived, he was on the phone with his brother, who again states “don’t touch anything”. Why does everyone insist on saying the same things but not what she should actually be doing? I am already sitting in the middle of the floor, obviously not touching anything, now what is next? Eventually, they hang up and Cory makes the call to the police. Neither of them can see where someone has come in but maybe the officer will see more.

I was disgusted with the man who arrived. He admitted that the front door showed no signs of a break in. He had gone to the window and didn’t see anything there either. I told him about the missing money from four days ago, and he informs me that without actual proof, they wouldn’t have investigated that incident. The disgust must have shown on my face, because after he left, he had gone to the back door to observe the window from the outside. He called into us that the thieves had broken in through there. He had found that the screen was pulled away from the wall, and then they must have slid the window open. It was a perfect spot because it was behind the building and there was a very dim overhead light. Apparently, the patrol units do not believe it is necessary to check the back of the buildings as well. He also stated that whomever had done must have been watching me and knew my schedule, especially if they were so brazen to break in twice.

I had made the call to my job, informing them that I would not be in the next day because of what was going on. I don’t think I will ever forget how the manager tried to say that having my home broken into twice in four days was not a good enough excuse to call off work. To be honest, it should have occurred to me then that I was not going to be working there for much longer. Instead, my mind was on where Sagria and I were going to stay, because we couldn’t stay in this apartment.

I was surprised when Cory asked me what items I needed for school, work, and for Sagria. I didn’t have any expectations from Cory. He had done his good deed by calling the police, and was now free to head home. But this sweet, kind man was planning to take my cat and me back to his apartment for the night. It was a kindness that would continue to give me hope in the following dark days.

The next week was a blur of school, work, and moving. The apartment complex believed that their security was efficient, despite what the police officer had stated. My parents agreed that I could not stay there, but the closest family I had was over an hour away from campus. Cory and his roommate agreed to let me stay with them, but Sagria could not as the roommate was not a fan of animals.

When it came to moving, my father and older sister’s boyfriend were the only ones to arrive. As the truck went down the road, I lost items of clothing because the drawers hadn’t been put back into the dresser after being loaded into the truck.

Prior to them arriving, I was already depressed. I knew the thieves knew when to break in because Sagria had broken the blinds and, in response, I had started leaving them blinds partially up to stop her. They had been able to spy on me and see if I had any items of value. I must have left the cash on the footlocker instead of in the small lockbox, and after they went in the first time, decided to go back for the bigger items. I was lucky they didn’t see the lockbox. When I saw that my family was the only family member to come to my ‘rescue’ a week after the events, I felt unbelievably unloved. My brother had to have heard my fear that night, why wasn’t he here? Where was my mom? My father left with my cat Sagria, and even though Cory was near, I truly felt more alone than I ever had before.

Matters only got worse when my job started scheduling me for during my classes. I called the manager and explained that I couldn’t work the shifts because I had school, and I asked why he so blatantly ignored my availability. He informed me that my job was more important than college, and if I didn’t show up then I would be written up. I told Cory what was happening, and had my first nervous breakdown. Without my job I had no money. No money meant I couldn’t payoff the apartment complex for breaking the lease nor could I pay back Cory and his roommate for letting me stay. I felt helpless, useless, unloved, and utterly alone. I wanted to die.

I am fully aware of what depression can do to a person. I am also aware of just how much a hug can save someone. I had felt alone when Sagria was taken away, because Sagria was the one living creature that was keeping me around. If I wasn’t here to take care of her, then who else would do it? But she was with my family and there was nothing left for me at this state. I will never know everything that went through Cory’s mind when he heard me say that I didn’t want to live. But I do know how much his unwavering presence helped me.

I married that man and, while I still have moments of depression, we have built a good life. I have Sagria as well as four other pets now, because they needed me as much as I needed them.

Between Sagria and Cory, I have survived and thrived.