Living in Terror

I came in late last night - quick overnight at home and as I relaxed and fell asleep with the fan on me, I thought of nothing but sleep. Within 3 hours I was awakened by a car door slam and then the sound of fighting.
I looked out my window to see a car pulled over on the side of the street, lights on, and a man atop another in the middle of the street. Although the streetlamp exposed the scuffle, it was hard to make out the who, the what, the why. I then heard a voice. A voice hurrying the fighters back into the vehicle. I had to assume they had seen me peering out of the window directly at them.
As I contemplated calling the police, the voice jarred me into reality. I live alone. I travel a lot. I am now a target.
A man punching the daylights out of what looked to be a teenager in the middle of the street at 3a.
What do you do?
And as fast as it drew me out of bed, the tires on the mini van squealed and the driver drove both men away into the darkness.
I re-ran the conversation, all the sounds over and over again in my head. Was this a gang related beatdown? Were these two drunk buddies that finally broke the last straw and decided to throw down? Was this a father figure beating a teenager who was out of line? These are the thoughts that went through my head.
Something told me it was domestic. Maybe the way the receiver of the beating slunk back to the car and got in silently. It also wasn't a loud altercation. NO cries for help. No voices at all, except initially when the car door slammed. I heard a man's voice saying, "...I told you...". Then after repeatedly punching the victim in the face and head, the voice of the woman driving the vehicle signaling them to depart the scene.
Regardless, my thoughts surrounded, would they come back? Would they break in and give me a beating because I witnessed the event? What the hell just happened?
Re-living the scene over and over again.
Getting out of bed over and over to look into the street and the cars. Trying to recognize my worst fear.
Finally falling back to sleep hours later of sheer exhaustion.
I sat on the toilet and quietly peed listening for any sounds coming from downstairs and outside. I thought about the fear the victim must live in daily to take a beating like that and get back in the car with these people. I thought about how much I don't know about my neighbors. I thought about how I made a conscious choice not to live in fear after two home invasions during my twenties.
It crossed my mind that I need to move. That I love my house and I love downtown but I am alone.
I am not protecting anyone. No one is protecting me. I don't want to lie awake at night reliving someone else's terror.
No compassion in the world can absorb the victimization of another human being.
And I look forward to my hotel room tonight so I can sleep well again.
And this makes me sad as well.

The irony: it's Independence Day.
Where is my freedom?