Strangers At My Door

The front door lock looks different.  Its color is still dark silver.  The design is the same.  But it looks newer.  There should be scrapes on it or some markings from my family’s keys, from us fumbling to get the key in the keyhole.  That is what I expect to see.  But I cannot say that I had noticed any scrapes or markings on it before.  Maybe the lock is scratch-resistant.  Or, maybe it is what I think.  Someone has changed it.  But if so, why?  And how can my key still fit the lock?  Unless the lock is one of those locks that you can change to fit several keys.  Then, are they gaining access to my house while I sleep?  Are they letting themselves in while I am at work?  Are they searching through my things while I am away?  What are they looking for?  Why did they target me?  What could I have that they want?  Why have these people invaded my privacy?  Are they waiting on the perfect moment to kidnap me?  I do not want to disappear into the night where no one can find me.  I need to protect myself.  Maybe I should call the police?  But what will I tell them?  I have no proof of anything out of the ordinary.  They will think I am psychotic and lock me away.  And that would mean they were in on it.  Now I cannot call the police.  I am going out of mind trying to think of who is stalking me—FBI, CIA?  What do they want from me?  They probably know my every move.  I must go on the offense.  Who can I hire to check my home for listening devices or cameras?  I am not going down sitting still.  They may think that since I am a woman that I cannot protect myself.

Tonight, I will sleep on the floor beside my bed again with the knife and gun in my hands.  And when those intruders sneak into my home tonight, I will stab them and put them in basement with the other three intruders. 

I miss my husband and two daughters.  I have not seen them in two days.  I suspect the intruders have taken them.