scared shhh-less

I've debated telling this story on my blog for a few weeks because I didn't want to upset the 'culprit' of this horrific incident.
However, I hung out with him on Friday night and got him nice and drunk, and he happily agreed to me writing this... so here we go.



Have you ever been this terrified?
I'm talking, full blown, 'almost' panic attack because you're so freaked out? No? Just me? Okay, moving on...

Well today I'm going to tell you about the time that I was scared shhh-less.

A slight back-story: When Amanda and I first moved to Vancouver we lived in a huge 'shared' house with 7 or 8 other people. There was never a time when there wasn't at least 'one' person home. It came in handy when you were feeling lonely and looking for someone to hang out with. Most Friday and Saturday nights we all hung out at the local bar a few blocks from our house.

This one particular night I wasn't feeling too great and I wasn't really up for hanging out at a bar. My agenda was more along the lines of: browse pinterest, play on the interwebz, and sleep. Sleep, sleep, eat, and sleep some more.



All of my roommates went out on this one particular night. I honestly think it was the only time the entire time I lived in that house that I was actually alone in the house. As I had already planned ahead of time, I hung out by myself and had a grande old time. I started to get sleepy and decided to turn on Netflix. Once the movie was over, around 1:30am, I crawled into bed. I shut off my lights and snuggled up under the blankets to fall asleep, as I would normally do.

At the exact moment that my eyes closed, I heard something in the living room, outside my door. I lifted my head slightly off my pillow to try and hear the sound better - nothing. No sound at all. 'Faith, you're losing it. You're just hearing sounds' I say to myself.

BAM!
My door flies open.



I lay completely still in my bed with my eyes glued on my door. All of the lights in the hallway & living room are off and all I can see is a silhouette of a person standing in my doorway staring at me. At this point I'm literally paralyzed with fear. I honestly couldn't have moved even if I wanted to. In my mind, I truly thought I was about to die - this was it for me.
Faith Bowyer, died at the young age of 23 from a murderer breaking into her house.
I'm assuming this is what would be on my gravestone, or something.

Back to the story... I lay there, paralyzed with fear, staring my silhouetted murderer in the eye. It was really dark, and I couldn't exactly stare him in the eye, but I gave the best 'leave now' expression that I could manage (despite the fact that presumably he couldn't see my face either).
I digress...

So what have we got so far?
Alone. Spooky sound. Door swings open. Murderer/silhouette standing in my doorway.
Right.
So the silhouette stands in my doorway for a moment, stumbles 2-3 steps into my room, he looks around, then walks back out of my room... slamming the door behind him.
Cue my heart pounding/racing about 8,000x per minute. I count to ten in my head (it seemed like a good number), then I slowly and quietly climbed out of my bed, and tiptoed over to my door, locking the bolt. I then ran back to my bed, switched on my bedside lamp, crawled under my sheets and blanket - up to my eyeballs, and stared at the door with my cellphone in my hand.



I immediately text Amanda: 'Are you home?!?' No response. 'Amanda... seriously. Are you home? Did you bring someone home with you? Did either of you just come into me room?' Again, nothing. I then text Ambrose: 'Ambrose, are you home?' *Nothing* 'Did you just come into my room?' *Nothing*

I proceed to text two of my other roommates and nobody is answering. Of course not, because it's 1:30am and they're all out partying and having the time of their lives, while I'm at home with a murderer, about to be killed.
Don't worry guys, I didn't die.

I proceed to lay in my bed and go through various scenarios in my head.

• I could jump out of my ground floor window and run to the bar where my roommates are.
• I could call 911 and catch the murderer.
• I could lay in my warm bed, being terrified and doing nothing about it.
  

Obviously I opted for the last option.



Let me briefly explain my reasoning for doing nothing when I was about to die. I like 'scary' movies. I've watched a lot of them. The two people who always die first are: the fat ones (hey, that's me), and the dumb girls who walk around in the darkness saying 'hello?'. I had NO desire to die, so I stayed in my 'now-locked' room.

I think I probably fell asleep around 4:00am or so, and woke up around 7:00am. Having the worst night of my life, I needed some tea to start off my morning. I threw on my slippers, and headed upstairs to the kitchen. I was worried that I was going to find either: A. all of my roommates dead, or B. the entire house robbed because I neglected to defend it against the intruder. Luckily, neither of these scenarios took place. Instead, I found my lovely roommate, Jenya, in the kitchen cooking breakfast. As soon as I strolled into the kitchen, looking like someone who got no sleep, Jenya immediately started laughing... Our conversation went a little something like this:

J: *laughs* Did you have an interesting night?
Me: Ugh, an interestingly bad night. Why are you laughing?
J: *still laughing* I heard that Ambrose came in your room last night.
Me: WHAT?! That was Ambrose?
*Cue Ambrose sheepishly walking into the kitchen*
Me: Ambrose... did you come into my room last night?
A: I am so sorry, I think I did.
Me: What do you mean you THINK you did?
A: I came home from the bar, pissed (drunk), and blacked out. I remember going to bed in my room and that's it. Then, this morning, I wake up in the *empty* room next to yours... naked. I had no idea WTF happened. I came back to my room and saw a few missed texts from you asking if I was home and if I came into your room.

Friends, this is where I possibly slapped him one or ten times. After my night of anxiety, panic attacks, extreme fear, it turns out that it was my sweetest roommate who accidentally came into my room... naked.

For the record, to this day, I have NOT let him live this down... nor will I ever let him live this down. I have the pleasure of making numerous jokes about his lack of manhood since I 'saw' him naked. (sorry mom and dad)

Thanks for being a good sport and letting me tell this story, Ambrose. Despite the fact that I thought I was going to die, I'm glad that I have this hilarious story to share. Love you!

Happy Tuesday, friends.