I wrote this fast and didnt have time to proofread, gotta go to work.

At nearly exactly 5am today I awoke to what I had no doubt was a shotgun blast 15 feet outside my bedroom window, on my neighbors back porch. I snapped awake. Petrified, I listened. Thought I heard footsteps. Thought I heard a voice. Seconds or minutes later I was finally able to get my hand to reach for the phone. From under the covers I dialed emergency. She couldnt understand me. I was talking too fast. From under the covers every sense tingled. I heard squirrels birds and roaches thinking to themselves, "what the fuck was that?" I felt every vibration, grasped every fluctuation of light and color. Nothing moved, including myself. Too terrified to look out. A million seconds or minutes passed before officers lit up the back yard. I went out to them. Pointed where I heard the blast. One officer looks over the fence. The other a few minutes later looks around in the air, "sir, do you have power?" I have nothing in my room that requires power other than a lamp that wasnt on, so if the power was out I would have no way of knowing. Before he could finish asking me the question, "did a fucking transformer blow up?" I said. Almost more angry at entergy than if there was an actual assassin that night taking shots at my new neighbors. By that time Matt and Susannah were up. They said, "why didnt you call out, Eric? Or come into our room?" Because I couldnt move. Any movement I would have made would have clued the perpetrator of my existence and of my new title as WITNESS. He would have had no choice to have me dispatched. It took nearly an hour for my heart to stop racing. I laughed at myself. I thought of two things to help me calm down. One was a daydream of me being powerful and smart. The other was my happiest moment of recent history. The daydream was a reaction to how weak I felt. I needed an absurd story of me being gallant and brave to balance out how cowardly I just acted. It started like this: I was at the restaurant closing up the register. The rest of the employees were around doing the they need to do to close their respective station. Two white men enter with guns. One comes directly to me points his gun at my face and demands cash. I calmly do as he asks. He asks if all the employees are right here. I know one is not and one is the dishwasher that doesnt speak english. I ask Tyler to calmly ask Ballardo to step up front. Then he makes me take him upstairs to the safe. As I go I tell everyone to be calm. We have insurance this no big deal. Upstairs I empty the cash boxes for him. Impatiently he smashes the top of my head with the butt of his pistol. I black out from rage. Bathed in white light I somehow overcome him and beat him unconscious. Now I have his gun. Everyone is still downstairs unaware. I call the police again. Chris has already called the police from his dark hideout behind the oven. I tell 911 that I have one of the men down and the other is downstairs with my employees. I tell them where the back entrances are and how to get in quietly. I know if too much time goes by the second guy will have to do something. I wait by the door down the hall. It open out from me. I hear him come up the stairs calling out to his accomplice. The handle is touched. When it is open by about 2 inches I kick it open as hard as I can. With force that surprises even myself. I point the gun at him. As he hits the ground he raises his arm to me. I shoot him with the purpose of hitting him the tight shoulder. No lung, no vital organs. I succeeded. One is unconscious in the office the other has a 9mm hole going through him. I yell out to everyone that I am ok. I yell to Tyler to bring clean dry towels up and for everyone else to stay right where they are. I ask the guy to drop his gun and that if I put this gun down and put pressure on his would will he be cool and not attack me. He accepts my help. He's more afraid of dying at this point. He is a little younger than me. Out of genuine curiosity I ask what it feels like. The same way I asked my sister what being pregnant feels like. He said it feels weird. Doesnt hurt exactly but it does. His whole body resonated. We figured together that was the body going into shock. Now Tyler was there and we both put pressure on the entrance and exit wounds. I asked him his name. I told him mine and introduced Tyler. For some reason I told him we were in a band together. He told me he played guitar so I asked him about specifics. What kind, model, color, pickups, year, string preference. All the basics we get out of the way when talking with another guitar player. I wanted to keep him talking. He was fading. I slapped him awake a couple times. What kind of amp? Pedals? Banalities to keep us both calm. But also probably the most surreal topic of conversation given that I just shot him. And he shot at me. Emma runs over the bottom the stairs to help. I yell at her to get away, I didnt want her to see this. She didnt need to see the blood or this dude die on me. I told her to find Chris Mac, get him out of hiding, call Scott, John and Quin and get them here now. Call an ambulance(which I pronounced AMBALANTS and made a joke out of a minute later, "can you believe I just said ambalants?") And tell them we have a gunshot wound. The police swarm in. As they come up the stairs guns drawn I tell Tyler to put his hands up, stand up and get back. The officer asks me to step away. I told him I have constant pressure and I am ok staying until EMTs arrive. I tell him to grab the gun from my back waistband. We all agree. The paramedics arrive, things calm down. They decide the crack on my head doesnt need stitches. They give me and Tyler stuff to wash the blood off. But before I can do it the police want a statement, John, Scott and Quin arrive in time for me to tell it all. So in my head, in the daydream I am telling it again but in a way that I am saying to cops. Details only. Just the fucking facts. And I play it all out again in my head. Adding details. I', sitting on the back of the ambulance. Telling the story. Someone puts a cigarete into my mouth. I keep talking. When I need to take it out of my mouth the blood gives me pause. The sight slows everything down and chokes me up for just a second. I continue.Tyler and I are at the back sink scrubbing our hands. I'm in bed after some drinks and talk trying to sleep. Ok, now is where it gets silly. The next afternoon I sit down with John, Scott and Quin. They are overwhelmed and gushing praise and thank yous. They decide that I need some time off. Paid. At this point I was already 5 days from taking a week off to fly to Minnesota to see you. That added a second was and to take the rest of this week off. They decided to buy me a new car. I said that was too much but they insisted. Quin mentions that I was still trying to save up for a new laptop. John puts his fist down, "Scott, take Eric car shopping I am going to Best Buy." So I now have 3 weeks off, a new computer and car and a bunch of cash. I get interviewed by tv and newspaper. I refuse to do any big national things because I am so humble and noble. Men dont brag about what they did. I'm even laughing at myself at this point. Now I call you and tell you all this. I tell you I am going to drive to Chicago for a day or two then come see you for as long as you'll have me. I needed a detailed stupid daydream to occupy my mind. I do it often before bed and before I get up. I create these too perfect scenarios. But this morning I needed it. This morning was the second most scared I have ever been.
The other thing I though about, the happiest moment in recent history, was you laying with me that morning, arm across me, head on my chest. You were with me this morning. You did protect me. You helped me sleep.