Forever Bedtime

I yawned and scratched by back as I always do. I took my cell phone out of my discarded shorts and set the alarm of tomorrow, just as I have always done. I looked down at my bed. My wife tucked herself into her blanket, we are both blanket hogs. I walked over to the corner by the door and turned off the light. We had moved out together no longer then a month ago. We both escaped bad houses; my wife's problem was her step father. He liked to drink and then yell. And I left from my mother; she could make Lucifer cry for mercy.
But we made it out, with the help of our best friends; they lived with us in the next bedroom over.
But they were visiting a relative out of town. My wife and I had the whole apartment to ourselves. And she fell asleep early! But oh well. I stayed up and watched a scary movie. I always forget how jumpy those damn movies make me. I stood up and locked the bedroom door. Our front door was locked, but it still made me feel better.
I laid there for a moment trying to calm my heart from my movie. But my bladder reminded me that I had another chore before I slept. I got up and walked to the door. Unlocked it and trying not to wake my wife I eased the door open.
“Go take care of anyone that’s here.” I heard a whispered voice say. I must been dreaming. Or I left the TV on.
This was no dream.
I heard shuffling in the living room. I closed the door and locked it. I backed up into the closet and as quietly as I could I eased the sliding door closed all but an inch. I couldn’t hear what was going on. The guy must have gone into my friend’s room first. Thank heaven’s they were gone. I heard the door knob slowly turn.
“It’s locked!” I heard someone whisper.
I heard a thud as if someone was hit. “Then pick it! Here’s a paperclip.” Another man whispered.
I looked at my wife still asleep on her stomach on the bed. I couldn’t let her get killed while I stood in the closet like nothing! I felt around in the closet and found my knife collection. All of these knives were fake and dull. Except my pride and joy. It was a Palestinian Hunting blade.
I watched as my bedroom door open slowly and someone dressed in black walked in. He saw my wife and walked to her side. I slowly and silently slid opened my hiding spot far enough for me to get out. The man was stroking the back of my wife’s head. I slowly touched my bedroom door so it was more closed then it was. The hinges squeaked.
         I didn’t give him time to turn around. I grabbed his head and cut his throat. Turning him so he wouldn’t splatter all over my wife. His blood instead splotched my window. 
         I helped him fall to the ground.
         “What is going on in here?” I heard a voice ask. I turned and blood boiled behind my eyes. I saw the other man dress much like the first staring at me. I leaped at the man at my door and saw a white flash. Something burned in my shoulder. I collided with the man and we landed in the hallway. With one hand I tried to force my knife down an in the other force the gun in his hand up and away from my face.
         I heard my wife’s scream in the room behind me.
         “Call the police baby!” I called not looking away from the man under me. I growled and forced my hand down my knife pierced his shoulder and he sucked in air. He tried to lower his gun enough to blow me away. But I reared back my head and slammed my forehead into the man’s chin. I used his distraction to push my knife father into his shoulder.
         I heard my wife scream through her hands right behind me. “Get back!” I grunted.
         The man under me grinned at me and raised his gun to aim at my wife. I saw what he was doing and yanked his hand back to me.
         BANG!
         The man relaxed. I took my knife from his shoulder and stabbed him in the eye.
         I pulled myself off him and crawled into my bedroom. My wife was sitting against our bed sobbing. I turned and sat in her lap.
         “You ok?” I croaked. It hurt to talk.
         “Yeah.” She said through sobs. “I love you.”
         “I love you too.” I croaked. My throat was so sore. I reached up and touched my throat. I pulled back my hand and found it covered in blood. My throat was gone.
         “I love you baby.” I said for the last and final time.