My first mistake was staying home that night.

It was a Friday, another insignificant day of any insignificant week. And I really wasn't the person who got around much. My version of a date was between my favorite book and me. Might sound a bit geeky, but they would never disappoint me. Books were the adventures I wished were reality, the getaway from my boring world. I could have adventures that would have never been possible, but they made Earth seem so bland. But boy, if I had only known then, maybe I would have hesitated.

Maybe.

I plucked my favorite book off the grand bookshelf I purposely made a show of in my room: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I ran my fingers over the smooth cover, taking in the design of Harry in the Department of Mysteries. I had always found the artwork of these books utterly amazing, the sketches as stunning as a Picasso or Da Vinci. Opening the book to nowhere in particular, I curled up on my bed and started reading, knowing exactly what was happening just by glancing at the chapter.

It was then I heard the screams.

At first I thought nothing of it. Probably the reckless children who knew nothing of controlling the volume of a voice. It wasn't that late, and their version of tag resulted in a few bloody elbows anyway. I shrugged it off and turned back to Dumbledore's somber speech. "Neither can live while the other survives . . . " so calmly stated, but dooming Harry at the very least. It was one of the more gripping parts of the novel, anticipating the great books to follow it after. I reached over to my nightstand and cranked up the radio. I had hours alone at last and I intended to spend them wisely.

The screams only grew louder. Exasperated, I slammed my book shut and swung my feet over the edge of my bed. A part of me knew there was probably nothing I could do about it; kids would be kids. But it was something else that was nagging at me. My heart leapt up into my throat as my imagination took over, which happened frequently. It always made the simplest of things more exciting, to pretend.

I pushed open my bedroom door and, as I stepped out into the hallway, I was almost blinded. An unnaturally searing light streamed into through the window from across the hall. I lifted my arm to shield my eyes as I drew closer, waiting for them to adjust. Squinting into the brightness, a wave of heat slammed into me so quickly I retreated a step. The neighbor's house was on fire, flames whipping into the air. And I was right next to it.

I backed up, fear grabbed ahold of me like iron rope, catching my scream in my throat and making my heart stutter. I knew I needed to get out of my house in case the fire spread. I wasn't safe here.

That's when my front door burst open.

I jumped as the door clattered to the floor, torn cleanly off its hinges. Footsteps echoed against wood floors like mighty gunshots. I ducked into my room as a man's voice growled deeply from downstairs.

"Search upstairs. She's here. I can smell her."

Search upstairs. I was upstairs. She's here. They couldn't have meant me. Pairs of heavy footsteps thundered towards the staircase and I knew I had to move. I didn't even bother shutting my door completely behind me as I darted backwards so quickly the soles of my feet burned against the rough carpet. It was too late to escape through the window. The bathroom had a lock, but if I hid there, they would know where I was immediately. And by the sound of my front door splitting into pieces, I doubted that any of the others stood much of a chance. I was too big to fit under my bed (and I had seen so many horror movies go horribly that way) so I darted into the closet, shoving myself behind a thin wall that slightly divided into a small cove.

Not a moment too soon. My door burst open and I flinched as it banged against the wall. There was the unmistakable shatter of glass, and the familiar clunk of my crystal Prophecy replica cause a dent in the carpet. Multiple objects smashed to the floor that I guessed were my books. I heard my sheets tear and the sound of furniture upturning. Stray music notes shrieked as my keyboard was thrown, cutting off as the plug was ripped from the wall. The floor vibrated as it crashed into pieces. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it would all just go away.

I was so absorbed in trying to block it out that it took me a moment to realize everything had gone silent. That unearthing, shuddering silence. I brought my hands down from my face, where they had been pressed over my ears. I held my breath as the footsteps stopped. My pulse was racing, my heart going to burst from my chest.

I jumped as my shower curtain fell to the floor. And with a sickening feeling I realized something. There was only one more part of my room to check.

I tried to make myself invisible, but my closet was only so big. My back was to the door as the intruder swung it open. Everything seemed to stop. I willed myself to not move or even breathe. The clothes in my closet suddenly didn't seem enough to cover me anymore. I closed my eyes.

The house went quiet again. I waited, silent tears streaming down my face, not daring to move. My lungs were bursting. Unable to wait any longer, I exhaled slowly.

My scream came too late as something latched onto my ankle, yanking me out of the closet. I desperately tried to grab hold of anything, my nails digging into the carpet until they burned.

That's when everything went black.