Awoken in the Night

Awoken. Something moved in my room and I heard talking. I scratch the haze out of my eyes by prying two fingers into the slit and pushing against the ball. My gaze scans the room for more movement. I reach out for the lamp against the wall on top of my green, plastic night stand purchased at Wal-Mart. I flick the switch. Nothing. Fucking cheap bulbs. I throw my plain, blue comforter off of my plain, white body. My feet turn up and around the crumpled comforter to land lightly on the carpet. I continue to search the room for movement, but by now I'm pretty sure nothing is there. Better get a glass of water to help quench the cottonmouth built up in my throat. I push of off the bed slowly so I don't have to hear my old bones crunch as if to warn me of future problems. I stretch my back anyway and walk slowly toward the door out of my room. I flick the switch to the overhead light. Nothing. Fucking cheap bulbs. I open the door with as much worry as a hawk in it's nest. My imagination is getting too strong, maybe I have scizophrenia. Fucking brain. I walk down my hallway into the living room. With light from the window I can see old pictures of myself and my brother when we were kids. I stop and relive old memories. Without thinking about it I continue walking into the living room toward the kitchen. I reach to turn on the kitchen light. Nothing. Fucking cheap bulbs. I reach to open the refrigerator. These kinds of crazy feelings deserve beer to help destroy the paranoia. I open the fridge. Nothing. Someone's turned off my power. I feel the breath on my neck before I feel the fishing line around it. He, I know this because his beard is rubbing against my unprotected neck, must have slipped in through the open window I saw when he flung me around and down onto the cold kitchen floor. He had to have hidden when he heard my door open and got into position when I was staring at the old pictures. I fight against him but I'm too old and he is too young. My breath is getting weaker and weaker. I scratch my nails deep into the linoleum my brother helped me put in my new kitchen. One of them breaks off and I see blood spill across my hand. I reach for anything I can get my hands onto to get this man off of me. Nothing. I try to scream before I'm out of breath. Nothing. Fucking cottonmouth. I push off of the ground. Harder and harder I push until I can feel my very bones bend against his weight. I can do this. I can fight off my attacker and win the day. I'll be in the paper and I can point him out in the court room. Everyone will know my name and I'll have my fifteen minutes of fame for ridding the town of crime. My arms buckle as I envision the future. His weight on my chest pushes out the last of my breath. I inhale sharply to get more air. Nothing. Blood fills my eyes as I stare out the window into the night.