On March 26th, I was on the computer at home when I heard a door open downstairs, then footsteps. My cat became very suspicious and went downstairs. He crouched low, then disappeared around the stairs into the kitchen. I cautiously went down two steps, holding a large stick, while the movement continuously went on. On the second step, I accidentally made a creak, and the footsteps began to run towards me. I immediately ran into the computer room and locked the door.
After the footsteps faded, I went back downstairs to find all doors locked. I returned to my room, locked the door, and called my mom, who was in Atlantic City with her friend—an FBI agent. They came over immediately. Her friend told me the same thing happened to him when he was 11. I later found my cat in the last place I would ever look: all the way under my mom's bed, in the very back, scared to death.
When my mom's friend went home, he said he did some research. It seems this happens to most teens who have lost someone. So, it turns out it could have been my grandmother coming to visit—but she nearly scared me to death.