Chapter 5 - The Desperate Intrusion
Desperation makes entitled people dangerous.
A week later, at two in the morning, I was jolted awake by the blaring siren of my new security system. My phone lit up with a notification: Motion Detected - Back Patio.
I locked my bedroom door, grabbed the heavy metal baseball bat I now kept under my bed, and pulled up the camera feed on my phone.
It was Tyler. He was wearing a dark hoodie, violently kicking the new reinforced lock on the back door. He looked manic, frantic for the cash he knew I kept in a jar in the kitchen.
Before I even had to dial 911, the automated system dispatched the police.
I watched on the screen as two patrol cars skidded into my driveway, their blue and red lights painting the side of the house. Officers rushed the backyard, tackling Tyler to the grass just as he managed to shatter the glass pane of the door.
"Get off me! It's my mother's house!" he screamed as they wrestled his hands behind his back.
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"Not anymore, kid," an officer grunted, securing the steel cuffs.
I stood at the top of the stairs, watching through the window as they shoved my son into the back of a police cruiser. I didn't cry. The tears had dried up years ago. All I felt was a profound sense of closure.
