I lay flat on the ground, hidden from view behind the couch. The man makes his way to my kitchen and opens my fridge. As he hums to himself, I make my escape.
I grab my phone and army crawl to my bedroom quiet as a mouse. I can still hear him going through the kitchen, not a care in the world. With trembling hands, I dial the only person I know will protect me.
Roman answers on the first ring.
“Hey, sunshine! What are you up to?” he asks cheerfully.
I choke back a sob while trying to form words.
“Roman,” I croak out. “Help me.”
“Cecilia, what’s wrong?” His tone shifts instantly. He’s on high alert.
“There’s a man… in my apartment… with a gun.” A tear slips down my cheek as the reality of the situation hits me.
I may not make it out alive.
“Cecilia, where are you?” he rushes out. I can hear his steps pick up, like he’s running.
“I’m in my bedroom. He doesn’t know I’m here.” I continue whispering to keep it that way.
“Can you get to Gracie’s room?”
Thank you, Universe, for not having Gracie be here. I’d rather die alone than have my friend die with me.
“Cecilia! Can you get to her room?” he asks again, this time more urgent.
I quiet to hear where he is, then I hear aSMASHin the bathroom.
In the bathroom between Gracie’s room and my room.
“No, he’s in the bathroom,” I tell him and Roman curses. “What if he comes in here next?” I start hyperventilating.
“Cecilia, focus. I need you to listen to me. Shut your bedroom door then go into your closet. Hide behind your clothes. Don’t make a sound.” He pauses, as if listening to my lack of movement. “Now, Cecilia!”
I do as he says, shutting myself in the closet. All the while, the robber destroys my apartment.
I hear him breaking things. The precious items Gracie and I have collected over the years. With each shatter and crash, my heart cracks.
“I’m in the closet,” I whisper to him.
“Good girl,” he says. “How many are there?”
“Just the one.” I whimper, because even though it’s just one man, it’s one man with a gun, and I know my chances are low.
“Okay. That’s fine. Just stay quiet,” he instructs.
I can hear his fear. A door opens on his end, then an engine starts. I can practically feel the rumble of the car as he accelerates too quickly.
“Be safe, hero. You can’t get into a wreck–” I pause when realization hits me. “Roman, you can’t come here! He has a gun! You could get shot!” I need him to understand the danger.
“Cecilia, you’re hiding in your fucking closet while a man with a gun robs you. I’m going to be at your place in eight minutes. Have you called the cops?”
I know I can’t reason with him. Heck, I’m not even being reasonable. I’m being robbed at gunpoint, and my first instinct was to call my boyfriend not the police.
“No. I’m sorry. I thought of you first,” I explain, knowing how stupid it sounds.
“No, sunshine. You did the right thing. I’ll get to you before they do,” he promises. “Now, on another line, call 9-1-1. Tell them your address and what’s going on. I’m seven minutes away. Just don’t get caught. I’m almost to you, Celia.” His desperation bleeds into his words, and I hear the engine speed up.
