My eyes opened wide as I jumped out of bed onto the gray, stained carpet. What the hell is happening? My dad’s shaky voice confused me; my head spun. I couldn’t make out what he was yelling to my mother, but he was concerned or scared. I really couldn’t tell. My clammy hands shook and struggled to open the door. As I yanked it open, the ebony hardwood floors in the hallway beneath my father’s heavy footsteps screeched. By instinct, I quickly found myself running behind him not knowing the end destination. He went out the back door. I followed. He ran past the side of the house. I was with him. He stopped in the backyard. I stopped too, giving him a dirty, confused look. “What just happened?!”

No answer.

It was dead silent except for my heavy breathing. The night sky was pitch black—almost like a never ending hole that my head was quickly spinning through. What. The. Hell. Happened.

“Dad! Why did we run out here?”, I shouted.

His eyes, darker than night, stared at me.

“Somebody was back here.”

* * *
   

The occurrence was almost forgotten; nearly a distant memory in my family’s minds.  If the topic was brought up, which rarely happened, the conversation had no serious tone to it. My concerns drifted away, out of my head, once I was given assurance that it wasn’t a big deal. Others’ thoughts seemed to take similar action because, after a few weeks, neighbors and friends spoke of nothing remotely close to it. Everybody, including myself, overlooked the seriousness of the situation.
   

Days, weeks, months went by with no return from the mysterious person in my backyard. Life for my family and I changed the slightest bit from the incident. It was a fluke, never to happen again. My optimistic mindset jarred reality and how in danger my family really was.

* * *
   

My mother tiptoed through the jungle of my sister’s dirty clothes. Picking each item up one by one, she was finally making a dent in getting the room clean. Hours later, my mother finished; an accomplishment that she would cherish for the week to come until the room was filthy again. She decided to take one more lap around to make sure she hadn’t missed something. As she looked on the ledge, something caught her eye. A camera. Surprised, my mother asked my sister, “Is this yours?”

My sister shook her head.
   

“What the heck?”, My mother shouted erratically.
   

After a quick judgement, she lurched for the phone and dialed 911 as soon as her shaking hands got a hold of it. Dark ebony flooring squeaked beneath her as she sprinted into the nearest bedroom; the phone pressed against her right ear. No words could be heard from outside of the door as my family anticipated her return. The door soon flew open; she swiftly pulled my dad to the side, gave us a long, hard look, and ran for the back door with my dad trailing. They didn’t have to say where they were going because there was only one place they would go, the police station.

* * *  
   

The concerns that had drifted out of my mind dove right back in. The confusion I faced for the foreseen future was immeasurable. My parents refused to tell me all of what happened, saying it wasn’t my business. Left in the dark, I was unaware of the situation unraveling. Even then I waited, patiently, for information regarding the camera. Time stood still as we all desperately wanted to get a call back from the police. But weeks went by with no call. Maybe they forgot about it. That’s dumb. The police wouldn’t forget, right? Right. The phone finally rang. My father happened to be the one who picked it up off of the counter.

What seemed to be a reoccurring event, my parents told my sister to get ready and left soon after. My brother and I, puzzled, sat at home speculating what could be happening. Oblivious to the intent of that camera, we were shocked when my parents arrived at home.

My sister’s life shattered in front of my innocent eyes as I stood in the doorway. No words were exchanged, but they didn’t need to be. I realized the camera wasn’t hers, thus changing her life for the worst. Her privacy that she held so near and dear to her heart was broken. Not by just anybody, though. Our neighbor, my dad’s best friend, had ruined my sister’s life. Because of this, she was too scared to sleep in her own bedroom. She couldn’t sleep anywhere, knowing that somebody could be watching at any time of the day.

Her senior year, a time that’s supposed to be fun, was filled with fear, hatred, and skepticism. My sister’s attitude shifted from a vibrant, open-minded person to a more cautious and enclosed person. Not only did she change, but as a result, I also changed.

I came to a realization that would be tough for anybody, let alone an ignorant fourteen-year-old. My sister’s life crumble to pieces right in front of me, and all from the action of one person. “Why would somebody hurt another person for their own benefit?”, Played on repeat throughout my head. An answer never arose, though. This led to my realization that the world is just not what it seemed to be as a child. It isn’t great. Everybody isn’t your friend. And last but not least, you can’t trust anybody. Looking back, this change in my mindset transitioned me from childhood into adulthood.