My name is Henry. Henry Foust. I was discharged from my mental rehabilitation unit today. About four years ago I experienced some psychological trauma. They took good care of me here. Good people. I thought I would have lost my humanity forever if it weren’t for them. You might be wondering what happened four years ago. Well it was your typical home invasion story. Except it wasn’t. It was a life or death situation. Now let’s start from the beginning now shall we.
I moved to a new house back in January. It was a nice home. Not too big. Not too small. Very warm and comfy. It had a fire place and three bedrooms. Two bedrooms were on the first floor while one of them was on the second. That was my room. However I lived by myself and used the other two bedrooms as guest bedrooms. There was a vent which just so happened to connect all three bedrooms. So all three bedrooms had heating and air conditioning. Thank god. Am I right? Anyway there was also two bathrooms. One on the first floor and the other on the second. Although the second floors bathroom lock didn’t work properly and so it wouldn’t lock at all. I also had a basement which the real estate agent said tended to flood during the spring in bad weather. It was extremely cold out but thankfully none of the windows drafted. I unpacked my things and went to turn the heater on. But it wouldn’t work, I figured I would have to go to the basement and get the furnace running.
So I walked up to the basement door. Swung the door open. And slowly headed downstairs. One step at a time. The stairs were incredibly creaky and made so much noise as I headed down.
*Creak Creak Creak.*
Over and over until I reached the bottom. It was dark in there. So I reached for the little string and pulled it to turn on the lights. For a second the lights flickered a bit. But the basement became fully lit. There were empty metal shelves every where and the furnace was all the way in the back. I walked over to the furnace and turned it on. The glow from the furnace plus the heat of the fire warmed me up both externally and internally. As I walked back towards the stairs I heard a loud crack then stopped and yelled.
I looked down to see a small puddle of blood as I had stepped on a glass bottle lying on the floor. How had I not seen it? I felt stupid and limped up the stairs into the kitchen where my medical supplies were. I sat down on a chair and slowly plucked out all the pieces of glass stuck in my foot. Each time I plucked a piece of glass blood would pour from the same area. It hurt but I pulled through. I then washed my foot with disinfectant and wrapped it with a bandage.
With the heater on, I then watched some TV. After about an hour of watching TV, I walked back up stairs into my bedroom. Put on my pajamas and went to bed. I could hear my clock ticking in the back ground as lay on my bed.
*Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock…*
I fell asleep. I had awoken to a noise coming from my basement. I bolt up from my bed to see what was the matter. I opened my bedroom door very slowly. The house was quiet. Not a single noise but the creak of the very door I opened. I ran down the stairs and to the basement door. For a moment, I felt hesitant to open the door. Like maybe I shouldn’t but thought to myself it might just be a raccoon or something. I creaked open the door and walked down the basement steps slowly.
*Creak creak creak creak creak…*
I reached the bottom. I turned on the lights and to my surprise. Nothing. The windows were tight shut as well. Everything was in place including some of the shattered glass I had stepped on earlier. I brushed it off and went back to bed.
The next day, I got out of bed and went to brush my teeth. I had ugly bags under my eyes as I barely got any sleep. I had a job interview the next day and wanted to make sure I got enough sleep before the day arrived. So I took a long nap. I awoke to something else but I wasn’t entirely sure this time. The clock read 9:30pm. How long have I been asleep? I went back to my bedroom. Put my pajamas on and went back to bed. This time I awoke to a loud crash coming from the basement. I bolt out of my bed and ran downstairs to the basement door. Swung it open. And stomped downstairs.
*CREAK CREAK CREAK.*
Turned the light on. Silence. My heart sank. A shelve had been lying on the floor. And they were sturdy as all hell. Someone must have knocked it over. I bolted out of the basement.
*CREAK CREAK CREAK.*
I dialled 911, but to my horror, the phone line had been cut. I didn’t have a cellphone so I was screwed. I ran back upstairs to my bedroom without even thinking if someone was up there. Thankfully no one was. At least I think. I hid under my bed and covered my mouth as I heard loud pounding yet slow footsteps reaching my door. I forgot to lock my door. But it was too late. The door slowly creaked open. A large man unidentifiable due to the darkness stepped in. His breathing was loud and fierce. The man walked towards my closet. Was he looking for valuables or me? I hoped to god it were valuables. Then I heard him say.
“F****r’s not here.”
I teared up. Was I really going to die? Then I heard him yell.
“Check the Laundry room!”
There were more of them downstairs I thought. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard from downstairs.
“S**t! Not here!”
I was shaking. I felt ill. Then one of the other men walked in the room and said.
“Think he’ll do something stupid?”
To which the first man replied.
“Not a hundred percent sure but. While I was hiding in the basement I noticed he ran down there. Don’t know if he saw my face though. So maybe?”
I felt awful. Like a tidal wave of terror hit me. He was there. Watching me. And I didn’t notice. Then I felt my prayers were answered when they both left the room. Still shocked and relieved they didn’t check under my bed. I tip toed out to the hallway entrance. I peeked my head out. They were gone. Or shall I say in a different area of the house. My first thought was the front door. But wouldn’t they be guarding it? I wasn’t sure.
I peeked down the stairs as the front door was directly across from it. And sure enough. There he was. A somewhat scrawny looking kid. I guess about 19-20 years old. He was wielding a pipe. I gulped and went back into my room to think. Where would I go. I don’t know why but the first thing I thought was “Bathroom”.
So I went into the bathroom which was directly across my room and slowly closed the door shut. I heard footsteps heading up the stairs. I went to lock the door but. I completely forgot. The lock didn’t work. I sat up against the door to act as a small barricade. I heard the knob jiggle above me. I thought of my family and friends as my life was flashing before my eyes. Then it happened. The man trying to open the door starting trying to kick it down. I looked for where I would go. When I had noticed the shattered mirror in front of me. They must have been in here before me. Then I realized. I had no choice but to fight.
I reached for one of the glass shards on the floor. I grabbed one and gripped it so tightly my hand started to bleed. Then I got up and without warning the door swung open and it threw me to the ground. Then a man I hadn’t seen stepped in the room. He was bald, medium build, about 5’7 feet tall, and a menacing grin as the cherry on top the already sinister cake. He was also armed with a bat. Then all of a sudden he swung the bat straight for me knocking me down. I got up and tried to tackle him before he kicked me to the ground. As I lay on the ground I stabbed him in the ankle with the shard of glass I held onto. A loud agonizing scream of pain roared from his mouth. I took this opportunity to stick the shard into his throat. I drove it in to the point he even coughed blood all over me. Then he yanked it out and blood sprayed across my face. The man stumbled around the bathroom getting blood everywhere before falling to the ground. He stopped breathing. What have I done! Did I really kill him?!? I took that chance to run out of the bathroom and into the hallway where I heard two men rushing upstairs. I ran into my room and locked the door. I heard them both yell.
“He’s in the bedroom! You’re gonna pay for what you did!” They began kicking the door. I remembered something. There was a vent in my room that lead to the other bedrooms. I ran up to the vent and pried it open with my bare hands. Climbed in and started crawling through when I heard the door finally give in with a loud boom. My fingers hurt real bad. But I had no other choice. When I was crawling through I fell into one of first floor bedrooms. Thankfully I landed on the bed beneath where I fell. So I was uninjured. I said to myself.
“I need to arm myself.”
Who knows what I’d run into. So I opened one of the bedroom doors and grabbed a box cutter. I flicked it open and locked it in place before stepping outside the room. I peeked outside. My heart sank. I saw the big bulky man from before charging at me with a knife. I put my arms in front of my face as a reaction. Then the man drove his knife through my arm. As he pulled it out I screamed in pain. Then he picked me up and threw me across the room. My arm was bleeding everywhere now. Then the man charged at me. Without even knowing I had driven the box cutter into his gut. He screamed and fell to the floor. I ran. Then I made it to my kitchen and grabbed the medical supplies before going into the first floor bathroom and locking it. First I grabbed the disinfectant.
“This is going to hurt.”
I poured the disinfectant onto the gaping hole in my arm and screamed in pain. I wanted to die. It hurt too much. Then with my shaking hands I grabbed the bandages and wrapped it around my arm. I got up. Left the bathroom. Then I thought, “What did the man look like?!?” I had forgot. And I was pissed. Then I heard a man directly behind me say.
“Found you, Rat.”
I turned around immediately. But it was too late. The man kicked me to the ground. Thoughts coarsed through my mind. I didn’t want to die. The man jumped on me but I kicked him off. He groaned in pain before shouting.
“I’m gonna kill you, B*****d!” I grabbed a knife off my kitchen counter. He lunged for me and without any hesitation I drove the knife into his neck. He coughed blood on me. I let go of the knife. I stepped back as the man struggled to breath. He managed to pull the knife out of his neck which caused him to spray blood from his neck and fall to the ground. His corpse was twitching. I threw up. It was such a horrifying sight. I picked up the knife that I used to kill him in case I ran into more of them. I ran to the front door but the young scrawny looking kid was still there. I didn’t want to fight anyone anymore. I had too though. Without any hesitation whatsoever I charged up to him and drove the knife into his torso. He fell to the ground screaming. I threw open the front door and ran outside. I went to a neighbor’s house and told them what had happened. They let me in and called the police. I remember the nice young lady telling me.
“Dear heavens. The police will be here in 20 minutes. Poor thing. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
The police arrived and I was taken to the hospital where they had taken care of the physical damage. Then I was sent to a mental rehabilitation unit for four years. There they took care of all the mental damage and psychological trauma I had went through that night.
There were four men who broke into my house. I had killed three of them. The young scrawny looking kid was found alive and sent to prison. I was actually quite relieved to hear that.