The Night a Stranger Watched Us

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This happened when I was fourteen years old. My aunt and uncle lived about twenty minutes from us, and growing up, my little cousin and I were pretty close despite the age difference. He was still young enough that whenever our families got together, I was basically the older cousin he followed everywhere, which I secretly loved even though I’d never admit that at fourteen. One Saturday night my mom and aunt went shopping while my dad and uncle went to see a movie, so I got stuck babysitting. I remember being slightly annoyed because fourteen-year-old me obviously had better things to do, but my cousin was easy to watch. Give him some snacks, put something on TV and he’d sit there for hours. It was around nine o’clock, and we were sitting in the living room watching TV when I started getting this strange feeling that something wasn’t right. I hadn’t heard anything outside or seen anybody, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone. I tried ignoring it because I figured I was probably just scaring myself, but eventually I got up to make sure the doors were locked. I checked the back door and started walking through the kitchen when I happened to look toward the window. There was a man standing outside. He looked homeless, or at least like he’d been outside for a very long time. His clothes were filthy, his hair was greasy and matted, and even through the window I could see dirt covering his face. What I remember most were his eyes, though. They were wide open and completely fixed on something inside the house, almost like he was in a trance. At first I thought he was looking at me. Then I realized he was staring past me at my little cousin sitting on the couch. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, but something about the way he was watching him made my stomach drop. He wasn’t knocking or trying to get our attention. He was just standing outside the window staring. I immediately went into protective mode, but I didn’t want my cousin turning around and seeing him. I pretended I hadn’t noticed anything, walked back into the living room and told him our parents would probably be home soon, so we needed to head upstairs before his mom got mad at him for staying up late. He complained a little, but thankfully he listened. I got him into his room, then went back downstairs to make sure the front door was locked. I was about five-eight and maybe 125 pounds at the time, and although I played football for my school, I was still a fourteen-year-old kid with some strange man lurking outside. I went into the kitchen and grabbed one of those metal meat tenderizing hammers from a drawer. When I looked through the window again, the man was gone. That scared me more than seeing him. I hurried to the front door and checked both locks. The deadbolt and knob were locked, so I ran back upstairs with the meat tenderizer and sat on the floor in front of my cousin’s bedroom door. He asked what I was doing, and I told him not to worry about it, just stay in bed and keep his head down. Then I called the police. They told me officers were on their way, but we didn’t live particularly close to the station and it could take around half an hour. I called my dad and uncle immediately afterward, but they were at a theater about forty-five minutes away. For the time being, it was just me. A few minutes later, I heard glass shatter downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps moving across the first floor. I remember looking at my cousin and realizing I couldn’t react the way I wanted to because if he saw me panic, he would panic too. I told him as calmly as I could to get underneath his covers, stay quiet and not come out unless I told him to. Then I sat back down in front of his door and gripped that meat tenderizer with both hands. For the next few minutes, I listened to this man walking around downstairs until eventually the footsteps stopped. Then I heard them on the stairs. My cousin’s bedroom was maybe ten feet from the top, and I genuinely thought I was about to have to fight this man. I had no idea whether he had a weapon or what he wanted, but I remember deciding that if that bedroom door opened, I was going to swing that hammer as hard as I could. The footsteps reached the second floor. He opened my aunt and uncle’s bedroom door, then the bathroom. I sat there trying not to make a sound, waiting for his hand to touch our doorknob. But it never did. After a moment, I heard him walk back downstairs and open the basement door. I stayed exactly where I was. Around fifteen minutes later, police finally arrived and entered the house. I don’t remember every detail after that because once I knew adults were downstairs, all that adrenaline basically crashed at once. They found the man inside. Later we were told he’d escaped from a mental health facility in another province and somehow ended up in my aunt and uncle’s neighborhood. I never learned why he chose their house or why he had been standing outside watching my cousin before breaking in. What has always bothered me most, though, is that feeling I had before I ever saw him. There was no noise at the window and nothing obvious that should’ve made me get up from the couch. I just suddenly felt like something was wrong and decided to check the locks. Maybe I noticed something without consciously realizing it, but I like to think it was God giving me that feeling that night. I thank God that man never opened our door, because as much as I was prepared to protect my cousin, I was still fourteen years old. I truly don’t know what I would’ve done.