All Allison wanted to do was to kick off her hospital sneakers, pour a glass (or bottle) of wine, and take a bath. It was Friday and the week had been hell.<br/><br/>Two of the doctors had yelled at her for things that were not her fault. A patient was late for his CAT scan and Allison was asked to sweet talk the neuro ward's head nurse into allowing her patient to switch times with another. She stepped in dog shit one day during her lunch hour. Her car insurance was going to go way up next month.<br/><br/>But now it was Friday. Monday was a long way away. She had almost three full days to regenerate. Or get shitfaced. One of the two, or both.<br/><br/>It was 5:45 p.m. when the aforementioned sneakers were kicked off. Allison hung up her purse near the front door and padded barefoot to the kitchen in her pink scrubs. Her home, built just five years ago, was a reward for having divorced Jake last year. They were married too young. Hell, Allison was divorced and at 26 she was<i>still </i>too young to marry again, much less when she had just turned 22.<br/><br/>"Must. Have. Wine," she said to herself. She also couldn't wait to get out of her work clothes and into nudity and into the tub.<br/><br/>The wine had barely been poured when Allison started gulping it down.<br/><br/>"Ahhhh," she said, and instantly her world was better.<br/><br/>"I love wine," she muttered before taking more of it. But then she furrowed her brow. She paused.<br/><br/>"Did I see something in the dining room?," she asked herself. No, that was insane. What did she see? What<i>could </i>she have seen?<br/><br/>Shrugging off the odd feeling, Allison raised the wine glass back to her lips when she made eye contact with a strange, scruffy man. He was dirty looking and sweaty. And he was standing in the entry to her kitchen.<br/><br/>Allison's jaw dropped, and so did the wine glass, which went crashing to the floor.<br/><br/>It took her a moment to find her usually big voice. But this time it sounded small.<br/><br/>"W-who are you?" It seemed like the most logical thing to say.<br/><br/>But then it hit her. This man posed a threat.<br/><br/>Allison, wild-eyed, looked around and saw the knife rack. But it was a good 12 feet away. Damn her big kitchen!<br/><br/>She knew the man saw her look at the knife rack. It would have to be a race.<br/><br/>But Allison was barefoot (as usual), and there was wine and broken glass on the floor, so when she made her move, she slipped.<br/><br/>The bad week continued.