This fourth story happened to my family, while I was close to graduating. My brother went to the same school I did, as he's just a few years younger. My parents both worked steady jobs during that time, but always managed to pick us up after lessons. One day, my dad dropped my brother off at home early, as his last two lessons were cut due to lack of a substitute teacher. My dad only brought him up to the house, then drove off as he saw him enter with his key. About two hours later, my lessons were over, and my parents picked me up to go home.
When we went inside, I wanted to get something from the living room, that faced the street. I was surprised to find my mother's beauty case sitting on the floor, opened. I joked with my dad, that my brother might have been using it, and forgotten to put it away. Then we heard my mother scream. She had gone to change in my parents' bedroom facing the back yard, and found there had been a break-in. The window was still open, closets been rummaged in, drawers pulled out. As soon as my mom realized what had happened, she yelled for my brother. The three of us were frightened, but relieved when my little bro came down the stairs, wondering what was going on. My dad asked him about the beauty case, if he had seen it coming home, or noticed anything unusual. But he had just gone up to his room as soon as he was home, to do his home work and listen to music.
Such an invasion of privacy is scary I tell you. My parents called the police, and went outside to wait for them, and keep a look out. Both were smoking. I had not seen my parents smoke since I was in kindergarten, didn't even know they kept cigarettes in the house. So them being this shaken really upset me further. My brother stayed in my company, as the uneasy feeling settled in, that he might have been alone with the burglars in our house. He was just 14 years old, and not very tall or built. At the time we also had five purely domestic house kitties. We worried about them venturing out through the window, as we didn't find them all immediately. But luckily, none had.
When the police arrived, they sadly did little to calm us down. The thieves had not stolen much, just two wristwatches my father kept by his bedside table, so the police concluded that they must have been disturbed, as none of the other rooms seemed touched. They told us of a gang that had been conducting break-ins around the city, who usually positioned some look-outs at the front of the house, after entering from the back. Which would be why the beauty case was in the living room. As soon as the thieves got in, one grabbed something that might hide valuables, and went to the front, scouting for people coming home. They must have seen my dad pull up to the drive way, and warned the others to run before my brother came in.
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It still scared us. What if the scout had stayed to see, that there was only a young boy coming home? Someone easily taken care off. Or what if some of the burglars were already upstairs, going through our rooms, unable to run before my brother came in. Would they have attacked him? Perhaps even killed him? The thought occupied and frightened my family, especially my mother. She even considered quitting her job to guard the house. So as soon as the police left, my father went to the hardware store to buy safety latches for the windows, to give us back a sense of security. He informed the landlord, who thankfully agreed to cover the expense.
That night my brother even asked if he could sleep in my room, despite his age. We ended up having a sort of sleepover, reading comics, telling stories, listening to music half the night, until he fell asleep. I had even left my door open to invite the cats in, and two of them ended up sleeping between us (they were usually not allowed in my room because I had allergies, but one night didn't hurt, if I changed the bedding after that). My parents gave us the option to stay home the next day, but we didn't take it. We didn't want our mom to quit her job or get trouble for staying away. But we didn't want to be alone in the house either.
The police never caught the robbers, despite the numerous break-ins. And even though I found a glove in the back yard the next day, and we reported it, the police didn't even bother to come pick it up. They said we could bring it in, but it wouldn't do much for the case. They also never dusted for prints. After this, me and my brother would spend our free hours to do homework in the school cafeteria, instead of going home by ourselves. This was in Belgium by the way. Not to say other police are way better, it was just the only encounter with them we ever had, and it was not reassuring of the protective service image then.