I saw something sitting in the dark of our house at night. I think it was watching me.

When I was 11 or so, I stayed with my mom at her new house.

Our parents had just gotten divorced, so my sister Beth and I would rotate between staying with dad and mom every two weeks.

I remember this one time, Beth was sick with the flu and so our parents had agreed to let her stay at dad's this time, even though his turn had ended.

Just like that, I was all alone in my room in this new house I barely knew. It was a single-story thing on the outskirts of town. After mom went to bed, I had the whole house to myself.

I kind of liked it, it was exciting.

I remember sneaking out of bed to steal chocolate popsicles from the freezer. Something I got caught with later. Good times.

Then one day, I had awoken in the middle of the night to what I thought was a bright light, but when I opened my eyes, I saw nothing but my dimly lit bedroom.

I realized I really had to go pee, so I snuck out of bed and was about to open the door when I heard a noise from the other side.

It was almost between a whisper and breathing. Like someone had just asked "huh?" in a hushed voice from the other side.

I held my ear closer to the door and strained to listen but heard nothing.

I didn't want to open that door. Every cell in my body screamed not to open it, but I really had to go.

As I slowly pushed it open and cautiously peered into the living room as to not make a sound, I saw someone.

Just there, sitting on the couch, was a dark figure, the size and shape of an adult man.

He wasn't moving, just staying put and looking away from me out of the large glass door to the porch.

I stared at the back of his head for what felt like ages. I was terrified to even make a sound. I still really had to pee, but I would have to walk past him to get to the toilet.

All I could do was slowly close the door to my bedroom as to not make a sound and hide under the covers hoping he wouldn't see me.

When I woke up the next morning, there was no sign that anyone been there.

I looked at the couch where he had been and confirmed there were no pillows or anything that could have made that shape and tricked my eyes in the dark. There really had been a figure sitting on our couch.

I went to my mom and told her what happened that morning, bursting into tears as I did, the fears of the previous night finally flowing out.

She consoled me and told me it must have been a bad dream. She told me there would have been signs of breaking and entering if someone had been in the house and showed me that all the windows were closed and the doors locked.

I truly began to question if it really was a dream. It had been so real, though.

When I told Beth the next week, she didn't really believe me.

She said I was just making up things to scare her. Well, I did do that sometimes.

"But this really happened!" I assured her. Nothing I said could convince her I wasn't lying.

Nothing except, perhaps, the photograph of a sleeping 11-year-old sleeping girl I now held in my shaking hand.

I thought about the bright light that had awoken me all those years ago and I realized.

The photo had been taken with a flash.