“Are we allowed to go in?”

“Sure, if you can stand the noise.”

I quickly call Vera and confirm that I can spend the night on her couch before I jog into the building and plug my ears as I head up the stairs to my apartment. This alarm is no joke and it almost brings tears to my eyes when I have to drop one hand to unlock my apartment door. There is definitely something screwy with the electricity right now because my security system has been knocked out and the lights I normally leave on in the apartment are off.

I take one step inside and freeze. It’s the first time since I had it installed two months ago that I’ll be entering my apartment without having to disable the alarm first. Which means it’s the first time in two months that I’m not completely certain there’s no one else in here with me.

A chill tightens the skin all over my body, and I bounce on my toes, hesitating on the threshold.

“This is my apartment,” I tell myself, trying to ignore the eerie way the bright, strobing light from the fire alarm is making everything alternate between a ghostly white and then shadowy black. “This is my house.”

I have to go in and get some stuff. So I take a deep breath and jet straight toward my bathroom. The first thing I do is scramble through my medicine cabinet for some earplugs. Once they’re in place I feel better. Now I have two hands at the ready for whatever might come and the earsplitting shriek of the alarm has been dulled down to a manageable degree.

I’m sweating and not because of exertion. My hands are shaking as I drag an overnight bag out of my closet.

“There’s no one else here,” I reassure myself, and turn around all at once, knowing that if I turn in degrees, I’ll freak myself out even more. The only thing I see is my empty apartment, bathed in light and then bathed in shadow.

I head to the bedroom and grab clothes at random. Next is my toothbrush and last is all the equipment I need for work. I’m breathing a huge sigh of relief as I lock my apartment door behind me.

The worst part of what happened two months ago is that it turned my apartment into enemy territory. I shouldn’t be more relieved to be in the stairwell than I was to be in my own home. But here we are.

I take the stairs two at a time and I’m huffing for oxygen by the time I skid back out onto the street.