21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Breaking and Entering

Without taking my eyes off the bathroom, I retreated back into the kitchen and grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on... a knife. I clutched it tightly in my left hand and quietly walked back to the bathroom. Once it was in sight, it felt like the curtain was looming over me, as if it knew a secret that I didn't.

I clenched my jaw and gripped the handle of the knife tighter. I didn't even think about it, I whipped the shower curtain back without a hint of hesitance and I raised the knife like I was Norman Bates. My heart dropped to my stomach when I saw that there was nobody there. The relief that washed over me felt so liberating, because I wasn't ready to see a man who wants me dead to be in my bathtub. It was short lived, however, because my eyes drifted up to my bathroom window.

It's a relatively small window, so I've never really thought about it. I have never locked it, because I had never been able to open it. It was painted shut. But tonight, it was all the way up. I could see the splintering wood and seal of paint that split when it was opened. It was making the curtains flutter. This made my heart stop beating.

I started turning on every light in my apartment. I marched to my closet and took out my gun and walked around my apartment. I had my back against the walls, quickly scanning every room and checking every place he could possibly hide. Every closet, under my bed, the bathtub again, kitchen cabinets, the fridge, behind my couch... everywhere. I felt like I was losing my mind.

When I was finally confident that I was alone, I went into the bathroom and shut the window and locked it. I took a breath, and convinced myself that Quincy was just doing that to mess with me. I live on the second floor of my building, there was no way that he was able to get into my apartment through the windows... right?

Tiredness was settling back in, so I headed back into my bedroom. I just so happened to glance at my nightstand before turning off my light and I noticed something that I didn't see before. A Polaroid. I walked over to it and picked it up by the corner, and I audibly gasped and covered my gaping mouth with my shaking hand.

The Polaroid was a photograph of me, sleeping. I'm grasping the pillow in my hand, and my eyes are closed. He must have taken this just before I woke up, and he probably slithered back to the bathroom and out the window after he realized I was awake.

He may have been gone now, but he was definitely in my room watching me sleep. The disbelief and shock I felt was overwhelming. I couldn't sleep for the rest of that night. I sat on my bed with my gun beside me for hours upon hours. Even when the sun came out, I didn't feel safe. I wouldn't look away from my bedroom door. I was waiting for him to come back. I knew he wasn't done with me yet.

I didn't tell Fuller until the next morning. He was rightfully upset that I didn't tell him sooner, but finally a few officers were assigned to protect me while I was on house arrest. Fuller informed them about this recent escalation, and they were prepared to guard my apartment until Quincy was caught.

I was up in my apartment all day, seeing a police cruiser parked outside my building the entire time. Officer Levinson was waiting, not taking his eyes off the door to the building for a second. He was my day officer, and Officer Gould was my night officer. I felt like I was being held hostage, I didn't know where Quincy was or when he was coming for me.

My hands were coated in a thick layer of sticky wet dough after my tireless work of stretching and folding my sourdough dough. I love baking bread and making my own butter. I started this process hours ago, it usually takes nearly two days to make a good loaf of sourdough bread. Since being quarantined in my own apartment, I've used up just about all the flour I own on my baking.