There are two sequels to this story entitled Mistakes Were Made and Stupid Love.
“I Break Into Houses” Creepypasta
I Break Into Houses” & “Mistakes Were Made” Creepypasta Vampire Series
"I Break into Houses and Mistakes Were Made"
Creepypasta Storytime- I Break into Houses
I know my place in society. I’m a lowlife. Scum. The kind of fucker that makes you think twice about going for a walk at night. I’ve always been this way, and holy shit, may I never change. I like it. It’s fun for me. I know how to make it work, play the game, stay alive.
Deutsch-1
It was a warm Friday night. I lay in wait outside the kitchen window of a nice, suburban two-story. These people had money, no doubt about it. I kept myself well concealed as I peaked in at the stacked blonde inside. Even in a long-sleeved sweater, she looked like she was doing a porn shoot as she leaned against the counter and sipped from a steaming cup. That’s right, bitch, I thought. Relax. You have no idea what’s coming.
The doorbell rang, and the blonde stiffened. The confused look on her face said it all: she wasn’t expecting visitors. The second ring came and I could see the confusion turn to anxiety. She left the kitchen and I followed, running from shadow to shadow until I made my way fully around to the front of the house. There, still out of sight, I listened.
The door opened. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” said the man on the porch. “My car broke down just up the road. My phone has no power. I was hoping I could come in and use yours.” His voice was low and even. Unconvincing as fuck. Believe me. I know all the tricks and how to use them. If the blonde fell for this shit, she deserved whatever was coming to her.
“Um,” she began to stutter. “I… I don’t….”
I had to stifle a laugh. It sounded like she was about to give him the “I don’t have a phone” line, which of course is bullshit. Everyone has a phone. It’s not 1873!
“Please, miss,” came the low, almost monotone voice again. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said at last. Then, I heard the door slam and that was that. Nice try, dude, I thought.
I followed the sound of the woman’s footsteps back to the kitchen window. She quickly picked up her cup, flicked off the lights, and exited. From my hiding spot, I could see her through the kitchen doorway as she ascended the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
I let some time pass, which was difficult. I was ready and itching. At last, when I felt like the timing was right, I set to work. The lock on that kitchen door never had a chance. These shitty locks are everywhere, and people think they’re safe. It’s amazing more people don’t get robbed or murdered.
Quiet as a mouse with bad intentions, I moved from the kitchen and into the home’s foyer. Even in the dark, I could see that it was filled with a kind of classic charm. In my experience, that meant there was money to be made. I was practically salivating as I imagined the payout.
My gaze landed on the staircase. I allowed my eyes to follow it upward. What was she doing now? Sleeping? Reading? Bathing? Perhaps enjoying some… alone time? I licked my lips and lingered so long on the thought that I nearly forgot myself.
“Oh, shit!” I said to myself, and I found my way to the front door. I opened it, and there he was. The boss. His pitch black eyes stared out at me from beneath his hood. I like working for him---he lets me keep and profit from whatever I find---but so help me, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those eyes.
“What took you so long?” he said in a whisper, his voice still unnaturally even. “You’ve kept me waiting.”
“You know I like to make sure the coast is clear,” I whispered back.
He cocked his head. “And you know I can’t come in unless I’m invited.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know, if you worked on your presentation, you might get invited in on your own more often,” I said.
His lips curled into an eerie smile that never quite reached his eyes. I felt a chill run up my spine at the sight of it. “But then you’d be out of a job,” he said.
“True,” I managed. “In any case, won’t you come in?” I stepped aside and allowed him passage.
As he moved past me, his whole demeanor warmed. His shoulders hunched slightly. He brought his hands together in front of him. I saw a familiar glint in his coal black eyes: the glint of hunger. Another chill washed over me. “Upstairs?” he guessed.
“Yes,” I said.
He smiled again. This time it was broad and genuine, revealing the long, sharp fangs that had descended on either side of his mouth. “Delicious,” he said, and he glided up the stairs into the darkness.
I tried to ignore the woman’s screams as I searched through whatever drawers or cupboards I could find on the ground floor. It was tough, though. It sounded like this was a particularly brutal one. And the boss is usually so efficient. I’m guessing she fought. Poor dumb bitch.
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