My dad was an alcoholic.....so I spent large parts of many nights alone once my mother died when I was 14.
I liked it, generally....until some man started wandering round the house banging on things at about 2.00 am one morning.
I felt kind of shy about calling the police, so I stood trembling by the door with the biggest knife I could find until morning.
The funny thing was that, when sober, my father refused to let me stay home alone (but with a friend....both of us very well-behaved girls) when he went away on business for a few days now and then.
He refused to believe that his drinking left me alone many nights anyway.
I guess he was amnaesic?