My family of five lived in an incredibly small home when I was around 15 years old. There are two bedrooms upstairs, a living room on the same floor, a bathroom, and a kitchen on the ground floor. When my siblings would argue, I would go downstairs and sleep. One night as I was admiring the sky through the window while resting on the couch facing the front entrance, a face suddenly appeared in the window, illuminated by a lighter. I stop moving, and the face disappears.
He had a knife in his hand when he emerged from the kitchen. My dad managed to descend the stairs as I screamed out of my stomach, and the man fled from our home. Since that day, I still find it difficult to fall asleep on couches. For me, that was just a terrifying night.
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