Home Invasion

Two and a half hours ago, a man pointed a gun at my head through the sliding glass door to the patio demanding to be let in with a barrage of angry threats.
He tore at the door with all of his strength, ripping the screen off its track but the door was blocked by an axe that allowed only the cats to come in and out. I saw his hand reaching the gun through the opening and I hid behind a stack of boxes in front of the television. All in all we were only about five feet away from each other when the real screaming commenced.
When I realized that I was the only one still screaming, I looked out and saw that he had left the patio. With Rebecca at the phone, a police helicopter was soon circling overhead and the 911 operator suggested it was safe to step outside to flag the patrolmen searching for our apartment.
The police took the few smudged prints off the glass and were very reassuring to us and our seven year old son.
It is almost three and a half hours ago now and I still feel the rush of adrenalin and fright and rage. It's not a habit that we leave the door blocked like we did tonight. I am feeling lucky like I've never felt before in my life.
I also feel like killing the son of a bitch and pissing on his bleeding wounds.
That's enough for now. Fuck this shithole city. I can't wait to move my family out of here.