It was a sweltering summer day, and I found myself at home, alone with my energetic two-year-old, while my belly swelled with the anticipation of a new arrival. The windows were flung open, allowing the warm breeze to drift through the house—perhaps a little too breezy for comfort. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed from the back door, shattering the calm. Peeking through the glass, my heart dropped. An adult male stood before me, covered in so much blood it was impossible to discern his race or hair color. Panic surged through my veins; opening the door was not an option. I rushed to the landline, my hands shaking as I dialed the police. With my child nearby, I felt the weight of the world pressing down on me. The officers arrived promptly, scouring the area but finding no one, leaving me even more unsettled. The next day, news broke that a man had been discovered unconscious in the neighbor’s yard—victim of a brutal drug deal gone wrong. The memory of that fear lingers, a stark reminder to always stay alert in an unpredictable world.