This man needs help, but you can't help him without helping yourself first. In a flurry of terrified movement you roll off of your couch and head frantically towards the dark hall that leads towards your parent's bedroom. As you transcend into the shadows you grasp the wall to make sure nothing foreign lingers beyond the dark. You can hear the shards crumble down off of the window sill from behind you. This fact hastens your pace, and moves you further into your parent's room, no longer fearing the scenes from movies, but the very real danger that might be standing right now in your living room.
You feel the edges of the room until you brush against the glossy wood of the closet door. Opening the door, you grab wildly and recover a shoe box which had been hidden there for years. Your father had recently purchased the pistol inside for self-protection, ever since he had been robbed by the gang of unruly youths. Opening the box, you pushed the old pornagraphy aside, and held the pistol straight out, aiming it towards the living room. You listened for the intruder, but couldn't hear a thing, except for the cricket's chirps which only seemed to be escalating the situation further.
You creeped forward, sweat developing all over you, from the intense fear of this epidemic. You gathered all the courage you could so that you could face this danger with confidence, and not let your guard down. Out of warning, and hoping for control of the event, you call out to the unwelcome guest,
"I think you have the wrong house, sir! Please leave or I'll call the police!"
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