I drove home from a long day of work. It’s a very crappy job but it pays the rent. My work hours are often insane; I usually work around twelve to fourteen hours. I live in one of those two-story apartments that would easily be confused for some motel on the highway or near a theme park. I parked my car right in the parking lot right next to the entrance to my room.

Somehow, I’m more tired than usual, and I could care less about my environment. I just wanted to drop my suitcase on the floor and fall upon my bed.

I reached into my left pocket and fished for my keys. I keep a lot trash and wrappers in my pockets, as my workplace didn’t bother to hire a janitor to take out the mountain of trash, and it didn’t seem right for me to litter, even when there wasn’t anybody around.

I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door to my room. From there, I just closed the door behind me, dropped my suitcase on the floor and began to strip into my brief boxers. I was ready to hit the hay and say okay to the next day.

I stumbled around in my own apartment thinking about my plans for work the next day, but I stopped when I saw the all-important-all-comforting glory that was my bed. It’s a single-sized bed: it had a wooden frame, the mattress was composed of Egyptian cotton and springs. It’s not one of those fancy-schmancy memory foam beds are all the rage, but it was serviceable.

I jumped into the bed, embracing the soft cushioning exterior. The fluffy pillow felt like a cloud on my face. The lights in all of the rooms of my apartment were turned off, and I had my blanket over my face to block out all of the lights outside my window. I slowly began to slip into the realms of rapid-eye-movement sleep, but something stopped me.

A light touch on the sole of my left foot. It felt like that of a small breeze, a smooth puff of air. I didn’t care to check; it was late at night and I just figured that it might be some kind of draft from a window that I forgot to close. Once again, I slowly approached the stage of REM sleep. Suddenly the small breeze, the puff of air, on the sole of my left foot turned into a light tap. I wiggled my left foot and slipped it into blanket cover. Maybe it was just some random nervous system error. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it in the morning.

The blankets got too warm for my feet, so I stuck them out. I hate having warm feet. It doesn’t feel quite as comfortable to me as if they were cold or room temperature. I felt uncomfortable in my current sleeping position, so I turned to my right side. As soon as I got comfortable with my current position, the light tap that I felt on the sole of my left foot turned into a quick yet powerless slap. I figured that it was a figment of my imagination, as I haven’t been able to get any sleep, so I ignored it.

As the night went on, the wind howled outside my window. With the blanket over my face, I couldn’t tell how crazy the weather was, neither did I care. I just wanted to get some sleep, and if I opened my eyes to take a look, I would risk not being able to go back to sleep again. I slowly started to reach the stage of REM sleep again, but this time, instead of the quick, powerless slap to the sole of my left foot, it turned into quick slap. From that point, I was awake.

Is there someone in the room? What does it want from me? I just want some sleep. My eyes were wide open, the blanket was still over my face. I was afraid that I would see who or what was slapping the sole of my left foot and that they would see me. I slipped my feet back under the blankets and tighten my grips around my blanket. I tried not to panic, as that would give away the fact that I was awake.

After awhile, the wind outside my window died out. It was pure silence. I thought that whatever slapped my foot would have left by now, so I slipped my feet out of the blanket again. As soon as I stuck them out, the wind outside my window erupted in a louder manner, as if the sounds of a muted television where suddenly unmuted. The quick slap on the sole of my left foot turned into bludgeoning smash. I definitely felt the touch of the smash as well as the swelling pain. The touch I felt on the sole of my left foot, wasn’t the feel of human skin nor the surface of a metal instrument. It was the air itself.

I laid in my bed, paralyzed in fear. I still didn’t want to pull the blanket away from my face, and I didn’t make a sound. I just wanted some sleep, but after the increase in severity of touch on my left foot, I knew what was coming next, and I dreaded it.

The wind howled even louder, the trees outside my window rustled and swayed, with loud creaky sound, as if the trees were uprooting from the ground and started to walk among us. I clenched my jaw together as hard as I could. I gripped the blankets tightly and tried to keep in front my face, in hopes of lessening the pain that I would be experiencing. It was quick, A powerful bludgeoning motion of the air landed not on the sole of my left foot, but on the ankle of my left foot.

Clack. My left foot was torn from its socket. I rolled out of my bed and yelled in pain. The wind outside my window instantly died, the creaking sound of the tree disappeared. My eyes were wide open and staring at my left foot. It was completely dislocated; bits of bones were sticking out of the ankle, blood streamed out of the torn flesh. Since the act of ignoring was up, I looked at the foot of my bed to see the torturer who had done this to me.

Nothing was there. The only sound I heard was the calm breeze outside my window.