I couldn't sleep. Usually I go out like a light but I guess it was just as well. Actually I was just staring at the stucko ceiling wondering why the heck someone would ever buy a stucko house no matter how nice the interior was. I heard a yell issue from outside but why should I even look? That stupid sixteen year-old, constantly driving that screeching car and whooping all the while. Probably drunk or just using the cover of night for a little free time driving. Idiot, wish I could tell him how I'm extremely ticked of I am after this little episode. Well, I don't know who he is anyway. There was another yell and a loud thunk as something hit our wooden fence. Now this wasn't a car and a stupid teen anymore. There was loud grunt and another louder thunk. It sounded like someone was having a fistfight in the alley. I don't know what got into me but I jumped out of bed and turned off the alarm and clambered onto my desk. Using the little muscle that I had, I unlatched the rusty thing and pushed myself through the window and gingerly jumped down to the wet grass below. Scrabbling up the fence I only got a peek over it. It was so dark that my eyes were having trouble adjusting and all I saw was one figure beating the shit out of the other. The dude was punching the other while the other guy was well, doing his best with the situation but still getting the shit beaten out of him. I slipped and my feet stung as I met those blasted woodchips. Trying my best not to crash into anything I practically flew through the window. Cold sweat started trickling down my shirt. Hastily I pulled on my jeans I flung the door open and rushed into the kitchen. The phone was sitting in clear view but I thought better of calling the police. They never are in time. My parents? Nah, though they didn't look it they were strong but they'd make too much of a ruckus and the attacker would get away. Only one option, I had to kill or knock out the attacker. Quite the most stupid thing that I could possibly do but the other results weren't pleasing. Kitchen knifes. No, I wouldn't be able to drive those things into anyone, imaging the gory details made my stomach lurch. What could I use without grossing myself out? A rolling pin. Mom always had that huge, heavy rolling pin. Fumbling with the knobs I flung the cabinets open and grabbed the rolling pin and headed out of the kitchen. Making sure to tiptoe past my parents' room. My father snores loudly and couldn't be stirred, only wakened by a loud yell but my mother, had the ears of a fox if I've ever seen a fox...but she would wake even if there was a creak of a floorboard outside of her room. Fortunately they hadn't stirred and I carefully, slowly opened the front door. Closing it softly behind me I crept down the wet lawn and towards the corner rounding about to the alleyway. The sounds got louder and so did my breathing. Peeking around the corner I saw the attacker launching his fists at the other person. The person was on the ground; he grunted in pain and took the blows openly. Holding my breath I crept up behind the man raising the rolling pin behind my head. Why the heck was I up at midnight about to hit a guy over the head with a rolling pin? Well, this is Manhattan.