3am

I suddenly wake to the dog barking ferociously, and the cats are both inside, and neither of my children are home with me at the moment.    
   
I reach underneath my pillow searching for the revolver and it slides down the back of the bed, and my heart is racing 100 miles an hour.    
   
Meanwhile, the dog starts snarling and I hear twigs snapping just outside my window, so I stand up swiftly, and feel along the top of my wardrobe to acquire the glock.    
   
When you live on acreage beyond the perimeters of suburbia, and your closest next door neighbor is almost a mile away; you’re armed to the teeth.    
   
He taught me how to use firearms during the years we were together, and since dissolving and having to live alone in this big ole house, I’m hyper - vigilant and leave weapons strategically placed around the property as you never know when someone might wanna test their fate.    
   
My heart is racing, and I can see the silhouette of a man with a cap on standing outside, and he proceeds to shine the torch into the window as I quickly duck in between a wall panel, between two ceiling to floor windows, and I’m trying to remember where I hid the baseball bat and 2 other firearms.    
   
I used to be a content sleeper, until insomnia decided it wanted to fuck me brutally every night, for months on end; after we terrorised each other at the end of the relationship.    
   
My thoughts are racing excessively and I’m convinced that whatever happens tonight, this man will not leave this property alive if he forces his way into my home as I watch him scanning the perimeters of my property.    
   
The dog stops barking, which is strange, and makes me wonder whether this man is someone I know !?    
   
Either way, he’s going to leave in a body bag if he tries to gain entry, and that thought is stuck on a loop as I’ve already psychologically prepared myself over the last 3 minutes of shadowing his movements from the inside of the property as he’s checking the entry points, externally.    
   
My mind is racing as I’m trying to ascertain who this could be, and I sink into myself with a sense of regret at the fact that I erased the panic room from the blueprint of the property when we first had the architect draw up the plans.    
   
I find my phone in my pocket, and switch it to silent whilst dimming the screen as I hear the intruder attempting to open one side of the triple garage.    
   
Fuck. I’m torn as to whether or not I unlock to triple deadlock door from the kitchen, that leads into the garage, or just wait until he actually makes it into the house.    
   
I push the button on the screen that has the CCTV footage, and I’m still struggling to discern who this man is.    
   
If it’s not my ex-husband who could it be ?    
   
Could he could be responsible for arranging a hit on me. My mind is racing, my palms are sweaty, and I’m fucking terrified as the adrenaline pumps through my vains like wildfire.    
   
The noise in the garage ceases, and I see the mans silhouette through my blinds as he’s entered upon the wrap around veranda.    
   
I quickly glance at the screen of my phone, noting that I still don’t have any reception bars.    
   
Either way, I’m fucked as I realise I’m deeply emerged in the fight or flight moment, and I rapidly realise the severity of the situation whilst hearing the man attempting to tamper with the crimsafe panels I had installed on all the windows, and entry point doors, just yesterday.    
   
Sighs.    
   
I continue walking along the inside of the property scanning his movements whilst trying not to mitigate the escalation of my inner terror with the pin unlocked on the glock, and my finger on the trigger.    
   
I’ve made up my mind, whoever this man is, he is going to die the moment he gains entry because I’m not in the mood to be fucked up and forcefully assaulted, or worst, be brutally raped before being violently murdered.    
   
My inner dialogue flits from being absolutely terrified as the internal breakdown continues to unravel, to being completely on the opposite end of the spectrum, to willing this man to hurry up and gain entry to the property so I can splatter his fucking brains all over my curtains, before rushing up to the top of the property to gain some reception bars to call the cops.    
   
Sighs.    
   
All of a sudden the rattling on the window ceases, and I can hear him move towards the front door, which is also encased in crimsafe security screens across both double doors.    
   
I’m peeking out the side panel through the lace curtain right where he’s standing, and I realise it’s my ex husband, and he’s fucked as he has an AVO in place.    
   
So. Now, I’m wondering whether or not I should go into the garage, and try to leave the property, or wait for him to gain entry, and blow his brains out as a final solution to my ongoing sufferances at the hand of this man.    
   
Either way, I’m ready to fight for my life, even if it means taking his.    
   
Years of abuse can do that to a woman, it even got so bad that I considered doing just that whilst he slept right next to me, but each time I moved, he would pull me closer or walk with me to the bathroom, just so he could watch me twinkle in the toilet bowl, before escorting me back to bed, before pulling me close to him so I couldn’t move.    
   
Finally, I see a lonesome reception bar pop up on the corner screen of my phone, and at that moment I decide to call his phone, and sure enough the ring tone starts ringing, and the light starts flashing in his top left hand side pocket of his T-shirt.    
   
He quickly runs off into the darkness of the woods that line the property whilst I continue to call his number from my private number, and I’m relieved to know that daybreak is only a few hours away to enable me to make an official report pertaining to his breach on the AVO, and I keep ringing his phone in the hope that the local tower will pick up his antenna, and log his unlawful whereabouts.    
   
Sighs. Next time, I may not be this lucky to share the narrative !