Surrounded

There are people roaming around my house. I don't know who they are or what they want. All I know is that they're there.
I don't think I have a particularly strong character, a disposition given to being steady. And it's because of this.

It's because of this that I'm terrified.

They've been coming here for some days now. Apparently they've been peeping in through my window. I haven't seen them, but since I found out that fact, I've been careful to keep my curtain closed.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.

Today, I heard my maid whispering to my mother with some urgency in the corner of the room. I think they didn't want me to hear them.
However, I managed to hear everything. The people who lived in the floor above me had been calling several moving vans lately, and it had been a scene I'd seen often; a random white truck parked in my house.
Strange thing about those vans, they never actually moved anything. They just came here, and waited here. I've never actually seen the people who drive them. I'm kind of shy, I guess. Whenever I hear any of them outside, I rush inside to avoid making contact.

At least, I used to. Now I'm too terrified to go outside. Maybe I should finish my maid's tale.

She told my mother that she had noticed something earlier that day. That the store, which was all the way at the back of the house, had been forcibly unlocked, and broken into.
Nothing had been taken, but the fact remained that the lock was broken. She had wondered about it at the time, and later she saw the two men that she assumed came with the moving truck.

They were looking into my room. Watching me read, maybe? Or were they just interested in the house in general? She watched them from a distance for a while, and saw them scale the wall outside my room and climb up to the roof. Strange activities for movers.

She was slightly scared by their stalker-like actions, and so she told my mother. For a while things proceeded as normal, with my mother advising me to tell her if I saw them.
Then I saw something outside, through my window. I saw shattered glass lying on the floor, and noticed that the window of the bathroom next to my room was broken. I heard their feet, I heard them running.

I haven't opened my curtain since. I've been keeping myself far away from the window. I have no desire to hear the haunting pitter patter of them run anymore.

And now, here I am. Hiding, in my room, at the corner furthest from the window. There's a thunderstorm outside. The weather is fitting, I guess. And I'm alone. Technically, my maid is in her room outside, but I really don't think I can quite stomach the idea of going outside.

From an impersonal level, this really isn't that frightening, I guess. Just me hiding in a room because I possible miscontrued the intentions of a couple of guys.
That's all well and fair of an assumption to make, I guess. But there's something about this situation. Or maybe it's a defect present in me. Am I prone to sensationalize things in my head?
Or is there something about this whole thing that's eerie and sinister? The constant bangs of the thunder outside seem to suggest the second option.

Why am I writing this? Is it because everytime I look away, I feel an irresistable urge to open the curtain and peek? Is this insurance for myself? Or do I want to share my experience? I feel rather confused.

I suppose it would be normal to dismiss this as a case of boys being boys. But boys don't force locks and break windows for no reason. Why aren't the people upstairs actually moving anything? Why is it that I can hear shouting and fighting up there daily?
Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? I suppose it's entirely possible. But, please, take me seriously. At least seriously enough to take into account that I'm frightened.

I'm all alone here, listening to thunder cleave the sky asunder. But that's not the scary sound. No. That would be the rain falling, pitter-patter, onto the pavement outside. I swear to you, it sounds just like their footsteps.

I feel surrounded. I feel alone. I feel defenseless.

Mock me if you will, but I'm going to sit here with a metal club besides me. It's better to be safe than sorry.

I'm scared. Help me.