By the time I got home from my shift at the diner, it was all but impossible to keep my eyes open, though sleep was the last thing on my mind.

I still had to finish the rest of my English homework, which meant after checking on my mom, who had for once made it to her bed instead of passing out on the sofa, I sat on my bedroom floor and finished reading To Kill A Mockingbird, knowing that if I crawled into bed to read it, I'd be snoring within minutes.

It was exhausting, trying to balance both school and work, like I was forever balancing on a tightrope and one wrong move would send me tumbling to my death.

I'd just finished reading the tenth chapter when I heard the front door crash open. I froze in position, straining my ears through the silence that followed. My mother was already passed out in her bedroom, there was no way she could be the noisy intruder. My heart pounded faster, my veins starting to pump with what could only be adrenaline.

I threw down my book and grabbed the baseball bat from underneath my bed, clutching it tight between my fingers as I inched down the creaking staircase, bracing myself to fend off the burglar, though the joke was on him.

There was nothing in our house worth stealing.

My other hand slowly slid across the green peeling wallpaper as I walked, my fingers finding the light switch before I flicked on the lights, shining a spotlight on the silhouette in the corner.

The man straightened up once he saw he'd been caught and I glanced at his hands to make sure he didn't have a weapon. When I was certain his hands were empty, I fixed my gaze back on his face, taking in his greasy skin and red rimmed eyes. Those same red eyes honed in on the bat in my hand, before a slow smirk spread across his face.

I closed the distance between us, whacking him on the shin with my bat in an attempt to make him flee the property, but instead of fleeing, he dropped to his knees and clutched at his leg, glaring up at me as if I were the problem in this scenario.

"Are you insane?" he wanted to know.

I darted forward again, my heart pounding away as I hit the bat against his arm this time. He let out another groan, though he made no effort to move toward the door.

Was this guy a masochist, or something?

"Would you stop," he said, through gritted teeth, "hitting me."

"There's nothing valuable here," I warned him, clutching the bat in a defensive stance. "So why don't you just—"

"I'm not a burglar," the man growled back, slowly inching to his feet with his hands extended mid-air.

"Oh, sure," I snapped. "You're just creeping around in my house for the hell of it."

I raised the bat again, and the intruder pressed himself against the far wall, looking at me as though I were a few cards short of a deck.

"I'm here to see Jean!" he hissed, bracing himself for another impact, but instead I lowered the bat slightly, peering at the man in confusion.

"My mom?" I asked, as if there were another Jean living at this address. "You're here to see my mom? It's three am."

The intruder was unable to stop himself from smirking, and I gave him a look of disgust before advancing toward him.

"My mom is not," I hissed, "a booty call," before I smacked him on the arm again. "Now get the hell out of my house, before I call the cops."

"But she invited me," the greasy stranger said, his face distorted with irritation. "Go ask her."

I raised the bat again, and he must have seen the manic expression on my face, because he muttered something that sounded like Crazy bitch before he slinked out of the house, leaving me standing alone in the hallway with my bat still raised above my ears.

This town, I thought as I headed back up the stairs to finish my homework.

I needed to get out of this godforsaken town.

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