It's nighttime when I wake up. My head pounds and my ears ring, almost as if I have been drinking too much. I press a hand to my temple and use the other to move the blinds that cover the window up so that I can stare out through the glass at the lit-up city. Although it's night and the lights are dim, my eyes start to water and I close them again, falling back onto my pillow. I let out a deep breath, then sit up and swing my feet over the side of my bed, opening my eyes to peer around my room. I am shocked at the scene before me.
It's as if some sort of monster has come through the room. The few picture frames I had on my dresser are now broken, the shards of glass scattered across the floor. The lamp that was on my nightstand is on the rug as well, its cord torn from the socket where it had been plugged in. Several of the drawers from the dresser are yanked open, their contents strewn around the room. The first thing that comes to my mind is that a burglar broke into my house while I