The night the cameras finally caught someone
I opened the recording from the living room and felt the blood drain from my face.
There was a figure in my house.
Head to toe in black. Long sleeves, gloves, mask – every inch of skin covered.
They moved slowly, deliberately, like they already knew where the cameras were and how to avoid staring straight into them.
I watched them shift furniture, pick up objects and place them in new spots, pause to stand and just… look around.
They came in at odd times – early mornings when I was out for groceries, or while I was gone running errands.
No broken locks. No smashed windows. Just a silent stranger rearranging my life.
I called the police. When the officer arrived and watched the footage, even he looked unsettled.
“We’ll increase patrols, ma’am,” he said. “Until we catch this person, keep everything locked. Windows, too. All of them.”
I nodded, but I knew patrol cars driving past wouldn’t be enough.
I needed to catch this person in real time.
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