In the bar with me

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When I was sixteen I would sneak out of the house at night get high and read a book (Such a rebel, I know). There was an empty forclosed home next door, and I would get inside via a basement window well and smoke in the basement's bar area. One night it was raining pretty heavy, and I forgot to bring my lighter. I went to get it and it was still pouring when I got back.

I set up a comfy place at the bar, and turned on my camping lamp I kept there. Then I started hearing noises upstairs. I turned off the light and sat still for a moment, and realized the sound was actualy coming from the doorless room next to mine. I grabbed everything I could and made for the window, and with half my body through I heard someone running and shouting behind me. I felt someone touch me as I finished crawling out, and ran to my house where I snuck in as quietly and fast as possible.

I heard sirens soon after I made it into my house and worried that it was law enforcement that had caught me in the home. Sirens went on for a while into the night and I barely slept. I learned the next morning that someone on the next block had burned his mother's home down with her in it, and he had been found breaking into a home later that night that was occupied several doors past the house I had been in.

It was likely him that was in the basement with me, and I still get scared thinking about it.

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