I lay in my bed, sleepless. You see, I have a terrible case of insomnia, a sleeping disorder. My medication ran out yesterday, and I'm not due for a refill for another week. I lean up, and look at my cat. My precious, black, fuzzy cat. I love my cat. She is quiet, loving, and cute.
I call her Banshee, because when I first found her, she was under my back porch, meowing loudly. But enough about that. I smile and scratch her behind the ears, in a trance from her low purr. I smile, and pull her next to my side. I live alone, and I work for a decent living. I'm not tight on money, nor do I 'bathe' in it, as people like to say. I slowly, and finally, start to drift into sleep.
My eyes snap open. Banshee is fast asleep, curled into a ball. I could've sworn I heard someone knocking on the window next to me. I look at the window to my side, but only see darkness. I check my alarm clock. It reads 2:58 a.m. I'm surprised that I only slept for about a minute, but I shrug it off and try to fall asleep. Of course, I can't. I angrily mumble to myself and stroke Banshee. Her furry, smooth coat soothes me, and I lay my head deep in my pillow, to drift off again.
TAP TAP TAP.
I jerk into a ninety degree angle, sitting upright. I am now feeling disturbed and angered. I look to my side, to check on Banshee, to see her gone. Strange. While concern floods me, I figure she got hungry, or started to walk around. After all, felines are nocturnal, right? Right. I check my alarm clock, almost as a routine, dread started to leak from me. 3:04 a.m. I sigh.
This is going to be a long night.
I figure, since I won't be sleeping tonight anyway, I might as well get something to eat. My stomach rumbles, and I walk down the hall leading from my room to my kitchen. As I walk into the dark kitchen, I flick on the light, and I see Banshee, sleeping on the table. Typical Banshee.
I sigh in relief and whisper, "Hey there, Banshee baby. You gave me a scare." I chuckle nervously and rub her ears. I grab a poptart, without bothering to warm it up and bite into it. Wait.. I hate poptarts. Why did I buy these? I shrug and finish it, and walk back to bed, carrying Banshee on my shoulder. I lay in bed, now full and satisfied, as I drift into the world known as sleep.
I feel glass rain upon me, and roll away, onto the floor. Banshee is gone. Alarm clock broken. I have my back against a wall, taking in the scene. Broken window, broken clock, blood, I look down and I see... Blood? Where did the blood come from? I look around, and I see my cat. I feel horror rise up my spine, as I see her eye glimmer towards me, still alive. I almost cry in relief, and I continue looking for the source. I feel something trickle down my forehead, and rub it off.
Blood. I'm bleeding. It doesn't seem major, as I don't feel anything. I take Banshee in my arm, put her in my car, I grab my wallet, and other essentials. I grab the keys, and get in the car. Banshee looks at me with a confused face, as I speed out of the neighborhood.
The next morning, I checked into the hospital. I had rented a small apartment for Banshee and I, and that's where my belongings are. The doctor says I have a minor head wound. Some cuts and bruises. I check out within the day, and sit in my apartment. I somewhat feel safer now. Banshee is curled on my bed, and I lay under the covers. I realize how exhausted I am. I drift into sleep, now happy, safe, and comfortable.