Finish the story: Owen awoke to the sound of glass breaking downstairs. He looked over at his alarm clock. “2:00 am?” He muttered to himself. “What the hell?” He then rolled out of bed and - still rubbing the crust from his eyes - shuffled toward the stairs. He was more frustrated than anything. He’d had a long week and it was bound to stay that way. Sleep was an ever elusive commodity. And still, he got up to see what had happened. As Owen stepped down off the last stair, he reached his hand toward the wall to turn on the lights. And that’s when he heard them. Hushed voices coming from the kitchen…just a few feet away. “That can’t be good,” he thought. “I live alone…”