Today was just one of those days I didn't feel like getting out of bed at all. Not even due to sheer tiredness, but due to my soul feeling depleted. If not for my children, I wouldn't get up. I knew they relied on me. At six in the morning, my youngest was ready for her breakfast bottle. Which just so happened to be now. I sighed and rolled over to look at my husband. He was still fast asleep. He wouldn't be for long if my baby got beyond her fussy noises to that of crying. I knew that would frustrate him to no end to be woken up so early. I had to use all my strength mentally to rip myself free from my mattress. Today was definitely going to be a long day.

I fed and changed my daughter before starting my coffee. I was dreading the housework. Truly, I wished I could simply fade into nonexistence. To poof off the map into a void of nothingness. I didn't know why I felt so heavy and weighed down today. Even the smallest task of starting coffee seemed to take a great deal of effort. I would have preferred to crawl right back into bed and stay there. For this, I opted to sit in my cozy chair instead of picking up the toys of the living room. Every day, it was a task of collecting all the children's toys to return them to their rooms. I stared at the mess throughout the floor. I just couldn't lift myself in the moment to care for it.

I closed my eyes, rocking. I thought perhaps if I rested, I could hit a mental restart button. Maybe that would get me in gear to start the day properly. I must not have realized that I had fallen asleep. The next thing to happen was me jumping awake at a loud noise. My husband had tripped over a small toy within the living room and barely caught his balance.

He cursed in his frustration. "Why is this house still a mess? You've got one job, Kim!"

I knew he was still cranky from waking up to his alarm. He was always cranky. "I fell asleep without even planning to." I told him honestly. "I couldn't seem to get motivated to pick them all up." I peeled myself off the chair to at least clear the floor.

"You're tired?" He snapped. "Try having a full-time job. I'm tired. And then I have to come home to trip over things that should have been cleaned up this morning!"

"I was going to get it." I replied with a calmer tone, trying to bring down his agitation. "My mood just..." I tried to explain. "It felt a little crippling, is all."

"Crippled is what I'll be when I break my neck, tripping on things you leave all over the floor." He clearly had woken up in rant mode. "Your one job. It's not about moods, Kim. Do you think I'm in the mood to go to work every day? No. But I do. It's not called a mood. It's called laziness." He kicked the toy into the wall, "Just do your job! Seriously! Get it together!" He stormed back down the hall to get dressed for work.

Today was going to be even longer than I originally thought. Frank had his bad days. Looks like today was going to be one of them. Normally, I wanted so badly for him to stay home with me. On days like this, I couldn't wait for him to get out the door. I finished collecting up all the toys and remembered I had started coffee earlier. Shame. By now, it was likely burnt. I would have to make a new pot. I began to wash out the pot when my husband joined me in the kitchen.

"Did you drink all the coffee?" He noticed me cleaning it out.

"No, I left it on when I passed out. I need to make a new batch."

"I don't have time to wait for a new batch!" He fumed, "You should've let me get a mug before you wasted it all. Do you even have a brain? Do you ever think? No. You don't care. It's all about you! Selfish! As long as you get your coffee, it doesn't matter if I get any! Thanks a ton, Kim!" He went off in a huff to the front door. Normally, I got a kiss and an "I love you." Before he departed. Today, I only got a very angry "Bye!" And a slammed door.

Finally. Some peace and quiet. Although, I wasn't really in the mood for coffee anymore. I just wanted to sleep. My laziness, I suppose. I was beyond drained. I climbed back into bed next to my toddler and closed my eyes. I found that just right, comfortable position just in time for my infant to begin crying. Lord. I suddenly felt like crying myself. I sat up and rocked her in her bassinet that sat next to my bed. No napping today. Not unless my children let me.

I was thankful that it was a Saturday. Instead of being at school, my son could be here to help entertain my toddler. This helped free up slightly more time for me to do my cleaning. That is, when I wasn't holding my infant.

Another day on repeat. Cleaning. Laundry. Changing diapers. Making lunch. Dishes. Cleaning as I go. Just like every day, it seemed. Keeping myself busy. Feeling like I was mentally trudging through Peanut Butter just to complete simple and miniscule tasks. All while wishing I could fold inward on myself until there was nothing left.

By the time it was about time for me to start dinner, the realization occurred to me that I couldn't remember at all of I had taken my medication for the day. For the life of me, I couldn't recollect it no matter how hard I tried. I thought that maybe I should take them, if I were to be sure. Just for the thought of potentially taking too much by accident to worry me. Better that I didn't take them just to be safe. Both thoughts had me worrying. I hated how I would overthink about these things.

A knock on the door brought me out of my concern from one thing and into a sudden and severe panic for this new thing. My heart tightened painfully in my chest. Who on Earth would come to the door when the sun was beginning to set? I wanted to hide away in silence. Maybe they would think no one was home.

"MOM!" My son came to stand right in front of the front door, screaming, "There's someone at the door!"

My toddler was quick to run to the door as well, "Daddy! Daddy!" She wouldn't have understood that her father had no reason to knock. Either way, pretending not to be home wasn't an option now. I didn't care. I still wasn't going to open that door. I hurried and pulled my children away from the door, ushering them down the hallway towards my bedroom. All while she cried out for her dad, and my son asked repeatedly who was at the door. If this were a horror film, my children would have been the death of me.

I got them into my room and spoke in hushed tones while the knock on the door came again, "Hide!" I hissed in my panic. "Take your sister and get under the bed! Shhh!" He only asked me why a hundred times, clearly not sensing the urgency of the situation. "Go!" I ordered him more firmly, "Keep quiet until I say it's safe to come out!" Finally, he crawled under my bed. His sister thought it was a fun game and crawled after him.

I went back to the door, my hands shaking. I peeked through the peek hole just to see total blackness. It wasn't that dark out yet. Which meant whoever was out there had their hand over the sight. They knocked on the door again, causing it to rattle less than an inch from my very face.

Immediately, I ran to the kitchen in a frenzy to grab a knife. I wouldn't let them take me or my children without a fight! I dialed my husband at work. It rang a couple of times before he answered.

"What? I'm still at work." He was clearly still annoyed from this morning.

I whispered harshly into the phone, "There's someone at the front door!"

He didn't seem concerned, "Who?"

"I don't know! They covered the peek hole!" I hid behind the wall as if they could see through the solid wooden door.

"Well, what do they want?"

"How would I know!?"

He sighed in his annoyance, "Did you try asking them?"

"No! I'm not opening the door for someone who hides like this!"

A sudden beeping sounded from my phone. I was getting another call. I looked at the caller ID. My brother. "Hold on." I continued to whisper to my husband, "Dillon is calling."

I switched over, still whispering, "Hello?"

"Hey." He sounded chipper, as always. "You home? Your car is here."

"What??" I peeked back towards the front door, "You're at my front door now?"

"Yeah." He laughed, "You haven't heard me knocking for five minutes? The kids heard me. Where are you?"

My heart still felt tense in fear even after the revelation. That kind of fear is hard to shake off. Even if the relief was a weight off my shoulders. I opened the front door to see his smirking face.

"Finally!" He hung up his phone. "What took you?"

I felt irritation he couldn't fully understand, "Why did you cover the peek hole? That wasn't funny!"

"Chill!" He chuckled it off like he did with most things in life, "I was just messing with you. Can I come in?"

"That really wasn't funny." I stepped aside for him to enter.

"Jesus!" He pointed at me, "Why do you have a knife, Kimmy?" He hesitated to enter at the sight of it. I had forgotten I was even holding it. My knuckles ached around the handle, I had been holding it so tightly.

"You scared me!" I spelled it out from him, "I thought you were-" I didn't even know what to say. "I didn't know who you were! You can't just come here unannounced and then block my view. You could have been anyone!"

"Anyone you want to stab?" He finally came in with his hands up to show he wasn't a threat.

"Uncle Dilly!" My son came running down the hallway to greet him upon hearing his voice. This brought my daughter running down the hallway to greet him, too.

"Hey, kiddos!" Dillon bent down to hug them both. Couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed that they hadn't stayed in hiding until I came to collect them. What if this hadn't been my brother.

"Why do you have a knife, Mommy?" My son asked.

"Because mommy is a little cray cray." Dillon didn't say it in a cruel or malicious manner. But that didn't stop it from stinging just a little. I couldn't help but feel like any other parent would do the same for their children. It was a matter of safety.

My phone rang in my hand. My husband. "Hello?" This time, my tone was slightly more relieved.

"So, I assumed you hung up on me." He said flatly, "Anyway, I closed up, so I'm heading home now. Is dinner ready?"

I felt annoyed again, "No. Because a serial killer was the one at the door, and he brutally stabbed me to death."

"Did he bring any food with him?" My husband asked, uncaring. "I'm starving."

"You don't even care who was at the door?"

"It was Dillon." He announced, ever so anticlimactically. "You were getting a call from him. Seriously, Kimberly. Either it was a serial killer stalker, or it was literally the person who called you to let him in. I put my bet on the more likely option. So, I ask again. Did he bring any food? I'm starving."

"No." I rolled my eyes, "I'll start dinner."