The Knock that Woke Me

*Trigger Warning: Home Invasion and Death of a Pet *

A knock.

Was it really a knock? Could it have been merely a left over fragment of a dream mistaken for reality?

A knock, again.

Loud and reverberating, it seemed to shake the walls of the house. It was not a request. It was a demand. Harshly, it commanded me out of my bed. Not a dream, I was now awake. My vision was still blurry from sleep. The clock informed me it was three in the morning. What could possibly be so pressing, so important, at three in the morning? Nothing good, that I knew.

Again, the knock.

Was it really a knock? It was more a thud this time. It was still demanding, still urgent. My feet hit the cold floor and a chill ran through my body, a reminder it is early, too early. Everything lay still in the insulating darkness. I could hear my partner snore, still sound asleep. I laughed a little to myself, wishing I had been asleep so soundly, slept through it until whoever was making such demands at such an unreasonable hour went away. They would have to, right? They would have to leave if no one opened the door. However, I could not let the knock go unheard, though. It might be someone in trouble. It might be an emergency. For better or worse, I had heard it.

I walked softly across the hardwood floor, trying not to damage to the silence any more than had already been done. Despite the knock, the house still seemed asleep, engulfed in peaceful silence, an oasis of rest after the whirlwind of the day. The children’s toys lay scattered across the living room, still and quiet monuments to the laughter and mayhem of the play they inspired moments before the heavy hand of bedtime cut their revelry short. Early bedtime, it was a school night, after all. Darkness hung heavy, a protective cocoon for those still tucked into their beds against, well, whatever lay on the other side of the front door. I was close enough to see the door now, shadows moved restlessly on the other side of the frosted glass. It seemed bright out there and too busy for such an early hour. The outside of the house was ablaze in a fury of motion so foiled by the silent peace within. I felt my heart begin to race, something was very wrong. Had there been an accident or a gas line break? Are we no longer safe?

Once more, there was the knock.

I was close enough now; close enough to hear it properly. It was not a knock. It was a thud, an impact. The door rattled and almost buckled. I was rushing now. I had to stop it, whatever it was. I had to protect the stillness inside the house, the peaceful bubble. I could not let all that motion, all that brightness, all that chaos, burst past the threshold to banish the darkness and its safety. I had to answer the door. I had to make them stop. I had to make them stay away, far away, from my family. Whatever they wanted, we would do it, calmly and orderly, but not like this, not like whatever was going on outside.

My hand reached for the light switch. I was just a few feet from the door.

A deafening thud echoed through the house as the door flew open sending splintered pieces of the surrounding molding flying.

In a blur of motion, someone grabbed me and threw me to the floor.

“THIS IS THE POLICE; WE ARE EXECUTING A SEARCH WARRANT!”

“What?” I barely choked out the words. My head was spinning, hardly processing the scene unfolding before my eyes. An unending stream of heavy dark boots rushed past my face. Maybe I am still asleep. Could this just be a dream? It certainly was surreal enough. As the swarm of boots pressed farther into my home and started moving down the hallway, I saw helmets with face shields down. The sea of bullet proof vests did, in fact, have POLICE spelled out in bright white letters. There had to be at least thirty, all armored, essentially faceless with guns drawn. Lights were being switched on, commands were being yelled. I could barely make any sense of it.

“My kids, they’re back there, in their rooms, sleeping … be careful … I could go wa….”

A bark rang out in the commotion. Then an explosion, no, it was a gunshot. A pained whimper followed by eerie silence.

“DID SOMEONE SHOOT MY DOG?” I was yelling now.

“Cool it,” the voice from the officer holding me down warned. “It is standard procedure, when securing a residence, to neutralize any dangerous animals for the safety of the officers.”

“She’s a Golden Retriever, a puppy, barely a year old. She’s no guard dog, just scared and not dangerous to anyone.”

“Not anymore.” The voice behind me said with a cold laugh.

“Please, just let me wake up my kids, that way they’re safe.”

A knee dug into my back, “I know you’re not suggesting my officers would ever harm children.”

“No, of course I’m not,” I stammered. “They’re young, eight and five, they won’t know what’s happening and accidents can …”

My daughter’s scream pierced through the din of loud voices, breaking glass and crashing furniture. Then my son’s voice pierced through, yelling for me then yelling for my partner. Both fell silent after terse commands from the officers.

“If this is a legal search, then where is your warrant?” I could not see my partner, but the voice was coming closer. “Who is in charge here, we have the right to see your warrant.” All I could see was bare feet surrounded by several sets of boots as they were dragged past me out of the house. “Babe, don’t say anything without a lawyer, they have to show us their warrant! You hear me? Don’t say anything with out a lawyer!”

I felt cuffs clink tightly on my wrists and the officer behind me started dragging me to my feet. I had a better view now of the officers. Some were going through cupboards in the kitchen, others searching through bookshelves. There was nothing gentle in the search, nothing careful. Plates slid off counters and crashed on the floor. Beloved heirlooms tossed aside in the corner. Piece by piece, the life we built together was dismantled. It was loud inside; any sense of peace was long forgotten. Yet, despite the droning chaotic din, all I could hear was my daughter crying.

The officer behind me started pushing me to the door.

“Let me say good-bye to my kids.”

“No time for that. Some of us are in a hurry to get off shift.”

“Wait….” I pushed back against him, struggling to stay in the house. I just want to hold them. I just want to give them some comfort. “Littles!” I called out. “ Don’t be afraid! Do what the officers tell you and I will see you soon! I love you both!”

I was being pulled back roughly now, being forced through the door. I could feel the cold morning air lurking on the other side of the threshold. In my periphery, I saw a helmeted officer looking at me. I made eye contact, at least I think I did, the shield made it difficult to tell. “Please, don’t let them see the dog.” There was a nod in response.

“Who will take care of them? It’s a school day today …” The firm hand at my back maneuvered me across the lawn towards the squad car, stopping to pull the door open. During this pause, I saw one of my neighbors out for a jog. He paused a moment, looking at the scene unfolding on my lawn and ran full speed back up block towards his house.

“Your children will be handled according to procedure.” The officer provided the curt, vague answer as I was pushed inside the car.

As the door slammed shut, I figured it would be safe to assume that the rest of the drive would take place in silence.

I watched my home from the window, hoping to see a glimpse of my kids. I watched it shrink smaller until it was out of view. I wanted to jump out of the car and run back as fast as my neighbor had to his home. But unless I figured out how to run back in time as well, there would be no going home, at least not to how it had been.

I was pulled out of the car, into the police station. It seemed relatively empty. It still must have been early.

The officer navigated me to a small, dark gray room with no windows. It seemed odd, that everything should have been nearly the exact same shade of gray. The officer removed the cuffs and told me to sit.

“I’d like a lawyer.” I said, settling in to the chair.

The officer just scoffed and walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

Time does strange stuff when you have no way of marking its passing. There was no clock, no window. No discernible noises from outside. Occasionally, I could hear people passing in the hallway.

At first, I was thirsty and then I was hungry.

I put my head down. I closed my eyes.

I could not rest.

I heard my daughter sobbing.

I heard my son yelling for me.

I heard glass shattering, furniture crashing.

I heard my partner yelling.

I heard the scuff of their feet on the floor as they were being dragged away.

I heard the gun shot. I jumped, even though it was just an echo in a memory.

I heard my dog’s pained whimper.

I heard the thud and the sound of the door buckling.

I heard my partner snore. A noise that I took for granted. A noise I thought would always be there. Now I had no way of knowing how long it would be until I heard it again.

I heard the knock. The knock that had woke me. The first crack that was about to shatter my life.

I remembered the silence of the house, the peaceful stillness. It was just as silent in this room, but it was not still and certainly not peaceful. My mind moved restlessly from one memory to the next. The silence filled with noise that only I could hear.

Maybe they forgot about me.

I heard the door knob rattle.

A knock. I felt a chill. I had a whole speech prepared. I would demand an attorney. I would point out that I was never read my rights and never saw the supposed warrant. I would demand lunch. I was really hungry.

The hallway seemed bright, busy and full of noise. A woman in a white pants suit stepped in, backlit by the light pouring in from the hallway.

I squinted a bit, but stood up when she entered, undeterred. “I demand to speak to a lawyer.”

“That’s good. I am a lawyer.” She said shutting the door. “I am the public defender and you are free to go. Turns out, due to a typo, the search on your residence was done in error.”

“A typo?” I slumped back into the seat.

“Yes,” She said, moving closer to the table. “The initial Judges Order was for a search on 76 Winslow Street, but the copy the officers received ended up saying 67 Winslow Street.”

I stared at her, unsure of what to say. “I live at 69 Winslow Street.”

“I know, sometimes the officers do get the wrong house, it is usually dark when they go out to do these types of searches. That’s why it’s important to have your street number clearly marked.”

Now I was really unsure of what to say, even though several very mean things sprang immediately to mind. I did not say them. It would not fix anything. It could not bring back what was lost. It could do nothing but make things worse. I consciously chose to cut my losses.

“Anyway,” She sighed at the awkward silence. “Some of your belongings obtained during the search are available to be returned to you. You can pick them up from Evidence Room on the first floor; the front desk should be able to direct you. The accounts connected to the debit and credit cards in your wallet were frozen in anticipation of a forensic accounting analysis. Even though the analysis does not have to proceed, it still takes 5 to 6 business days for the freezes to resolve.” She slid a folder of paperwork across the table to me. “This is the inventory of the physical items obtained from your residence; Evidence will provide you with the list of what can be returned today and what you will have to come back to pick up. Also in there is the contact information for the Social Worker handling the temporary custody of your children and, also, for Veterinarian’s Office where you will have to call to make arrangements for the remains of your dog. You should hurry to Evidence to get your belongings; it is close to the end of the business day after all.” She smiled, and stood to go.

My weary brain was still churning, working through each bit of bad news. By the time I realized the information that was left out; she was nearly out the door. “Wait!” I called after her, “What about my partner?”

She stopped with a bit of a groan, as if terribly imposed upon. “Are the two of you legally married?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then I cannot share anything without consent”

“I’m sure consent would be given …”

“It has to be in writing, and it has been a terribly busy day. You are more than welcome to go to the Clerk’s Office on the second floor to obtain the information publicly available there.”

And, just like that, I was left alone to try to reassemble what few shards of my battered and broken life I could prior to the close of business. Finding my way to the front desk, I got directions to the Clerk’s office and to the Evidence Room. People stared at me as I hurried through the hallway and caught the elevator. I was still in my pajamas and barefoot.

The Clerk informed me of the publicly available information that my partner was charged with Obstruction of Justice and bail was $500. Noticing my current state of dress, he welcomed me to come back tomorrow to pay by cash or money order.

There was a bit of a line at the Evidence Room. There were four large boxes. I did not have the heart to do an exhaustive look through them, nor did I seem to have time. Everyone was looking to go home for the day. My cell phone was in there and it was working. My wallet and house keys were there too. I was generously given a cart and someone to help me wheel everything out to the steps, as the cart was not allowed to leave the building.

Sitting on the steps outside of the police station, I called my boss. After a fifteen minute rant about unreliable employees, I was fired. I hurriedly called the Social Worker about my kids. They had been placed in temporary foster care.

‘There aren’t any charges, the search was a mistake. Can I pick them up tonight?”

“I am sorry, even if there are not any filed charges; standard procedure is for a series of supervised visits before custody can be restored and the children returned to the home. However, I can start the process of getting those visits scheduled tomorrow to get the case closed quickly.”

“Thanks, is there anyway that I can at least talk to them tonight?”

“Unfortunately, that is not possible. Phone contact is not allowed until after the first supervised visit.”

Heavy sobs racked by body after hanging up the phone. Everything bottled up all day finally came out for about ten minutes straight. Through tears, I looked at the contact information regarding the final arrangements for my dog. I sobbed harder. I could not bear it today. Instead, I just ordered an Uber to go home.

“Wow, you look like you’ve been through it.” The driver said when he saw me attempting to pull myself together. I nodded silently. He helped me with my four boxes, both getting them into the car and then up the driveway to the house. I thanked him and he drove away.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to enter the place that had been my family’s home. The outside of the front door looked like it had been through a war. It did not open, through the hole where the knob used to be I saw the backside of a wood plank, likely nailed to the wall to keep it closed. I let myself in through the garage.

The house again was dark. It was still and quiet inside. It was peaceful inside. However, it was no longer the peace of protection, but a peaceful tomb. The house was not asleep; it was a dead empty vessel devoid of the energy that it once contained. Vast and hollow, it now bore only echoes of joy and ghosts of comfort and security.

Unable to stand the deafening silence, I fled outside to the front porch. I watched the Sun as it set; proving that, despite everything, the Earth was still spinning on its axis. Celestial bodies continued their heavenly dance unhindered by the plight of life down below. I sat, painfully aware, yet comforted, that all is fleeting and temporary. Dreams created by shadows and dust, from which the knock woke me.