Keith scrambles away from them as fast and as far as he can get, back pressed literally against the wall. He frantically digs through his backpack looking for the one weapon he has. Eyes wide, heart pounding, Keith desperately rummages through the bag, searching and searching, but he can’t feel the one thing he knows is supposed to be in there. “Who are you?!” Keith shouts, trying to sound intimidating while he stalls for time. “What do you want?”  At his yelling, the two smaller children run across the room screaming, but the smiles never leave their faces, almost like it’s a game to them. Keith would feel marginally better that they’ve backed farther away if only the two other kids he noticed earlier hadn’t suddenly shifted their attention to him as well.  “Where’s my knife?!” He accuses loudly before the two younger children have even stopped screeching. His hand suddenly wraps around a pencil loose in his backpack—it’ll have to do. He holds it threateningly up near his head like he would his knife if he was poised and ready to stab someone—not that he ever has. The young woman’s eyes immediately go wide and round with alarm, taking a step further away from him just like Keith wants. The boy next to her mimics her expression, but he stays in place and laughs in disbelief instead. “Holy shit!” The boy exclaims, “He’s crazy!”  At that, the little girl screams again and giggles, “Daddy!” She shrieks loud enough to be heard throughout the whole house. “Keith’s crazy!” Fear shoots even higher through Keith then, threatening to overwhelm him—how does she know his name? Strangers aren’t supposed to know his name. This is bad. This is so bad.