I breathed a sigh of contentment as I lay on the reclining couch with my baby Cory, 13 months, asleep in my arms.
It was late at night and my hubby, Gary, was away for work.
With the TV murmuring softly, I drifted off to sleep.
Next thing, I felt someone shaking my leg.
Waking with a start, I saw a strange man standing above me. He was dressed in dark clothing and looked fairly normal.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked, confused.
‘It’s okay ma’am, I’m from the future. Do you need a man around the house?’ he asked.
‘Who are you?’ I said.
‘I’m from the future,’ he repeated.
I wondered if he was a friend of our daughter, Courtney, 23, who was out with mates.
‘Do you know Courtney?’
‘No,’ he said, sitting on the chair opposite me.
Feeling scared, I racked my brain trying to think of ways I could get him out.
As Cory started to stir, the man commented, ‘Your baby is so cute.’
Panicking, I said, ‘I have to breastfeed, do you mind leaving?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, getting up and walking towards the door.
Relief flooded through me.
But within seconds, the man
was running back over to me clutching a huge stick he’d picked up from our laundry room.
He looked furious.
‘Why are you lying? That baby is mine!’ he yelled.
By now, Cory was wide awake and crying.
‘You’re meant to be my sister,’ he continued.
Desperate to protect my bub, I shouted at him to put down the stick.
Calling Gary on speed dial, I hoped he’d hear the commotion.
He was a five-hour drive away, but maybe he could scare the man off.
Suddenly, the intruder dropped the stick and apologised, before sitting back on the couch.
I put Gary on loud speaker and he shouted, ‘Get out the house or I’ll call the police.’
‘They won’t do you any good,’ the man replied, chillingly.
Running over to me, he whipped out a blade and held it to my throat.
‘Give me the baby,’ he growled.
Trembling, I discreetly tried to keep Gary on the line while calling police.
All the while, the man rambled on about me giving him the baby.
And the blade was still on my throat.
In a whirlwind, the man suddenly grabbed Cory from my arms and started to walk away.
I screamed and frantically shouted out my address, hoping the operator on the phone would hear.
Chasing after the man, I caught up with him in the kitchen and desperately tried to grab Cory. But the stranger held him in one hand, while fighting me with the other.
In the struggle, I stumbled into the fridge, causing a huge cordless drill to tumble off the top, whacking me on the head.
The man then stabbed my chest three times before running off.
I felt no pain, but there was blood everywhere.
My phone was on the counter and the operator was still on the line.
Snatching it up, I breathed, ‘My baby’s been kidnapped and I’ve been stabbed.’
Running out to the top of the driveway, I spotted dozens of blue lights.
Police and paramedics were already here.
‘You need to find my son,’ I cried.
As paramedics looked me over, I called Gary.
‘Our son has been kidnapped,’ I sobbed.
He was just as devastated.
A cop soon came over with an update.
‘We’ve found your baby but he’s being held hostage on your neighbour’s rooftop. We’re working to get them down,’ he said.
Crying out in distress, I felt sick to my stomach.
Desperate, I tried to get up to go and find him, but the officer stopped me.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, an officer appeared with Cory.
I burst into tears as he was placed in my arms.
‘Shh, it’s okay, Mummy’s here,’ I soothed.
At the hospital, a doctor checked over my wound as I clutched onto Cory.
‘You’re very lucky. The stabbing was just half an inch away from your right lung,’ he said.
Thankfully, the other two strikes hadn’t punctured my skin, and I just needed a few stitches.
Incredibly, Cory escaped with only cuts and grazes.
Police charged Brennan Scott Stone, 29, with attempted murder, kidnap and unlawful use of a weapon.
I heard how Stone had remained on the three-storey rooftop with my bub, talking irrationally and throwing bricks at police and other residents.
There, he threatened to throw my poor baby boy to the ground.
But after negotiating with him for 15 minutes, officers talked him into handing over Cory safely.
In court, Stone pleaded guilty following a plea deal and was sentenced to 20 years in jail.
Police explained how Stone had been high on drugs when he broke in.
He’d also been in trouble with police in the past.
It’s been over two years since that awful night, and I still suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and depression.
I’m afraid of the dark and I can’t sleep at night.
And we don’t have the money to move house, which makes it so difficult to move on from what happened.
We’re still not sure how much Cory, now three, remembers.
But he’ll often wake in the middle of the night screaming and crying for me.
Despite all of this, I’m so thankful that I still have my boy.
Every milestone that he hits, I think to myself, I may never have seen that.
Cory is the light of my life and every day I count my lucky stars that he’s here.
To help Desiree, you can contribute to her Go Fund Me here.