July in Portugal is usually very hot and unless you’re near the river or by some park resting under some tree shadows, Porto feels like climbing a mountain, with all it’s hard up and downhill streets. Like many others at the end of their workday, I went for my usual cocktail with some friends and stayed by the café until it was time to go to the bar.
I wasn’t exactly looking for hookups but I managed to caught this blond white, bulkish guy looking at me from time to time. Not my type, with his muscles showing, but the alcohol was lowering my guard and my flesh is weak. Made some eye communication back and, fast forward some bar flirt, he went to my place for some fun. I opened the living room so air could circulate, started kissing him on the hallway and locked the bedroom door behind me as we were getting in.
Two weeks later I managed to meet up again with blondie, at my place, for the casual hookup with some wine and snacks. Woke up the next day during the afternoon with a regular hangover and him already gone.
It’s the end of the month and it’s the hottest day ever. Am not quite ready for more fun since I only want to melt away on the couch but the hormones kick in when I last want them to, so I invite my blond guy over. We first go for some groceries and then we head back to my place. Since he was carrying most of the bags, I offered to help carrying what looked like a gym bag but he abruptly shook his shoulders so I couldn’t touch it. Paid it no mind and just kept going up the stairs.
We’re watching a documentary on something but I’m barely hanging on to anything that is happening, it’s too hot.
Ok I’m done, I’m really not in the mood, I’ll take a nap. You can crash if you want, I just don’t feel like sleeping together with this heat, sorry. Filipe won’t be home for the night so it’s fine if you want to stay on the couch. - I muttered as I started to leave to my bedroom, quite drunk and sweaty.
While closing the door, I suddenly felt less drunk and goofy for some reason and ignored the laziness of it all. Locking the door didn’t seem like it was due to force of habit.
I woke up in a flash, shaken by the sudden bang and just looked for my phone. There were sounds of something that looked like plastic bags coming from the living room so I tried to join Filipe to ask what was going on.
More awake now, I realized the sounds didn’t come from the neighbours but from outside my door. I swallowed so much dry air as I was trying to say something that I started coughing and trembled, gasping for air. I stopped mid way to the door as soon as I got back into my senses. It wasn’t Filipe, it was blondie. He was still in my house.
The door was now being kicked and pushed and I could see the knob moving. I couldn’t move. I was trying to make sense if it really was him or if I was just still sleepy and hangover or if the door would hold.
I clutched my phone to my chest as my expression changed and my heart went into survival mode. The boy I’ve been sleeping with was trying to barge in and now I was locked inside my bedroom, on a 4th floor.
More accurately now, I heard some ruffling plastic sounds and him going back and forth.
You have 15 seconds. - his voice went back to a normal level now, but faint. Casual bangs on the door, as if he was giving up or just tired.
I have my phone with me. I’m calling the cops right now, are you insane? I’m not leaving this room! - I lied as I only looked at the door in shock, fearing it would open at any moment, imagining it was my last few breaths.
Open the door, please. PLEASE. - He proceeded but without banging, just normal knocks. His voice was very calm but somehow desperate.
The police is on the line now! - I shouted hoarsely as I went back to the phone. - Hey I need help. Someone is inside my house trying to get in my room. I’m locked inside and he’s screaming. Please help me, I don’t know what to do.
All the sounds stopped. No more weird rustling, kicks or begging to come in.
I must have been in total panick because I managed to call for help without remembering how exactly I did it, I just noticed the call was still on after a couple of minutes. I was pumped with adrenaline trying to figure out if it was really happening to me and what could I do while help was or not on the way.
I was too afraid to even get to the door and check through the peeping hole so I just stayed back with my phone in one hand still connected to 112 and the bed lamp on the other hand that I grabbed to defend myself.
I don’t know how long it was untill I heard something again but I only came back to my senses after someone on the other side insisted with my name.
As my heart started racing again, I wiped some tears from my eyes and slowly went for the door while trying to answer the lady on the phone.
The sounds made me shiver once more since it was what I heard before with blondie there, making me question if it was a trap while being sure it wasn’t. Being rational was giving me an headache. I agreed to leave and started moving towards the door.
Curiosity mixed with adrenaline made me go to the door right away to give a slight peek at the keyhole, just to make sure, just in case. I could see someone with a dark uniform walking around some plastic wrap that was on my floor, making those sounds I heard before.
Having confirmed it was the police, nothing could prepare me for the biggest thud I was ever going to feel in my stomach.
My floor, couch and table were protected by a giant transparent plastic wrap. Next to the table, blondies gym bag, open. On top of the table was, very carefully organized, some surgery material like some scalpels, small metal plate with more utensils inside, folded towels and some rope. I couldn’t make sense of what else was there because tears started filling my eyes as one of the officers came to me very slowly and the other talking unintelligibly on his walkie-talkie.
I moved to a different house after 2 weeks of staying at my parents. The guy was never caught.
All my doors are double locked now.