It was barely three a.m. when I saw the flashing lights. I stumbled in the dark, tripping over shoes. My hands grasped at the window, and for a moment, I only blinked. The lights grew brighter, threatening with danger, and all I wanted to know was this darkness. All I wanted to do was to fall back into a peaceful sleep, but there would be no peace tonight.
The attack had come. My next door neighbors fell victim. Senseless crime, vicious robbery, but no ambulance in the driveway. It was a bad scare, but the threat was real. Our neighborhood was no longer safe, and more attacks would come. Would I be next?
My mind quickly woke up and opened its checklist. Windows locked. Check. Front door bolted. Check. Garage doors closed. Check. Poodles at the ready. Double check. Was that enough, or would nothing be enough in these harsh and trying times, where the desperate live?
I couldn’t go to bed now. My hand remained holding the blinds back. Neighbors stood outside, looking up at me, and I looked at them. I could hear the crying, the screams of justice, and the dying whisper of hope. No, there would be no more sleep tonight but a call to arms. What did I have in this house to protect and to protect myself with?
I slowly pulled myself away from the window, away from the army of police cars, and away from the scene of the crime. A quiet neighborhood. A green, lush yard. Beautiful portrait houses now stained. Dolls left broken. Perfection gone.
I made myself a cup of coffee. I opened the drawer with the razor sharp kitchen knives. I took a seat beside the window and soon had a mug in hand, and I had a knife on the table. Did I feel safe? No, but I would not be the victim. This was my house, my home, and if anybody dared break in… Well, I have the right to defend myself and then call 911.
The end of night fell quietly. Dawn awoke, stirring this once peaceful neighborhood, but sleep was already gone. They were all lying in bed with one eye open, gripping their loved ones tight, and the morning commute scolded them to move, to hurry up. I heard its call, but I finished my coffee. The knife was gently placed back in its drawer, slowly being closed but not completely. Farewell, night. Hello, morning. May I come home, where everything would be alright, but I knew different. But I still left, living my life.