It's now time for just the terror with Nick Guerra.

Warm breath. About ten years ago I was recently divorced and living alone in a one bedroom apartment.

The place was clean and the rent was decent.

One of those places that I had a doorman, I felt safe here.

I was alone in loving it, focused on my career not on my clingy ex-husband.

Things were finally looking up for me.

At the time I was working pretty late at the office and would often stumble into my apartment sleep deprived in the early

hours of the morning and wake up by 6.30, 7-ish to start the day.

I started noticing that in the morning my door would be unlocked sometimes. I usually dismiss this as my sleep

dead brain thinking that the bed looked more appealing than locking the door.

Another thing I noticed since moving in was that I seemed to misplace things more than I used to.

Little things like a hairbrush or nail polish, that sort of thing.

It wasn't really that big of a deal, just enough to be a slight annoyance in my day. The longer I lived there,

the more frequently I seemed to forget to lock the door. At first it was every once in a while,

and then it seemed like an almost daily occurrence.

More things went missing.

Things like pictures, shaving raisers, and more disturbingly, my underwear.

This went on for long enough that I started to get a little

paranoid. I started to take the time at night to make sure the door was locked. I

got into the habit of every night after I locked the door to turn the handle

three times and say to myself it's locked, it's locked.

Time after time I would wake up and the door would be unlocked.

...