To begin with, I wasn’t in the market for a new anything.  So, when the man appeared at my door with a bundle of wires and a box with a new cable unit in it, I was skeptical, to say the least.  I hadn’t made any calls and I hadn’t received any, either.  I told him that he must have the wrong house and turned to shut the door.

Suddenly, he was pushing his way in, forcing me to double back and I tripped on my own foot.  Knowing that he was inside my house was terrifying, but thinking of my baby boy just two doors down the hall sent me into instant panic.  I fought to stand up, only to have his boot kick me hard in the face.  I watched helplessly as he walked over me and stalked down the hall to my room.  How did he know where he was going?  Had he been inside the house before? 

At least he’s not here for that, I thought.  Thank God for that.  Lying there, on the living room floor, my mind raced, wandered to random thoughts of my baby and came back to reality, suddenly set on one decision.  I had to make it out of the house with my son.  We had to escape, but if we couldn’t, I would fight for both of us with everything in me.  My son had already lost his father to the war and I wouldn’t allow him to lose another parent.  What terrified me more was the thought that he might lose his life, having just begun to live it.  I couldn’t let that happen.

I could hear the man tearing my room apart.  What was he looking for?  I had nothing.  I was a war widow working a dead-end job with no assets to speak of.  I rode the bus to work, my mother babysat for me for free.  What was it that he needed from me so desperately that he might kill to get it?  

He was coming.  I could hear his footsteps on the carpet.  He hadn’t found what he was looking for, I knew.  He was frustrated, mumbling to himself and moving faster toward me.  He raised his boot and brought it down hard on my left arm, which was bent, cradling my sore head.  I screamed.

He took my face in his hand and, squeezing my cheeks together, he spat out, “Where is it?”  His voice was deep and raspy.

“I don’t know what you want,” I said, more weakly than I’d wanted to.

“You know exactly what it is and you’re going to get it for me, or I’m taking the kid instead,” he threatened.  I knew he meant it.  But how did he know about my baby and how did he know where the bedroom was?  Had he been in the house before?  I knew that I’d never seen the man in all my life and I was always keenly aware that this man knew who I was, knew about the baby and knew something that I didn’t.