Deep Sleep

I was always a heavy sleeper. Now at sixteen, it was worse than ever. You think that if something terrible was going to happen in the middle of the night, you'd wake up, or you at least would hope you would.

No dog. No cat. Not even a hamster. Nothing to use their acute sense of hearing to notify us of the danger in the house. On a regular night the occasionall teenager blasting their music would've been heard. A train perhaps. But this was no regular night. Dead silence rang throughout the house. 

Approximately 1 A.M....

A car silently pulling up. Engine's cut. Footsteps up the front path. Onto the porch. Tools pulled out. Quietly slipped into the lock. Jiggled a bit. Door eased open. Shoes pad up stairs. To the end of the hall. To the door on the left. Creaking of the door. Pausing. Listening. A hand slipped over a mouth. Eyes popping open.

 At first I assume it's my older brother, needing to talk about something important, but soon enough my eyes adjust enough for me to see it's someone dressed in all black, two other's identical behind them. Even their faces are covered. Panic sets in. 

Now, I don't know if you guys ever learned about the whole "fight or flight" response in school.  I'd only heard about vaguely. That night was better than any science lesson that could have been given to me.

My hand clamps over theirs, my legs lash out, kicking. I'm so close to struggling free of their grip, when the others step in to help. My vision gets fuzzy as a strange smelling cloth is placed over my mouth.