Slacking? More Like Stressing!

I've been falling behind on my weekly posts, I know, and missing classes lately due to so much crazy junk happening and stress. I'm supposed to blog about the class speakers every week or anything pertaining to the Honors Program at UNA and other college experiences. Well, I have an interesting story. It occurred Saturday night, November 3rd, around midnight. I was at a friend's house when my brother, Derek, texted me from our apartment saying that the neighbors had a huge number of people over, and they were all standing outside the door being loud and drunk (as they do almost every single night) when Derek and his two guests heard a gunshot just outside the door. Derek called the university police, who just parked across the road for a few minutes and drove away because as soon as they pulled up, the crowd went inside the neighbor's apartment. They came back out as soon as the police left. Derek wanted me home immediately while his fiends were there in case something else went down, so that I would have more than just Derek to defend me. I pulled up half an hour later at my apartment, parking less than twenty feet from my front door. I noticed the neighbor's crowd farther down the road, all quiet, all staring at me when I got out of my car. I looked down as I stepped up on the sidewalk and immediately noticed a small metal cylinder on the concrete. Too shocked to pick it up under the stares of the crowd, I just walked to my door and locked it behind me. Derek and his two guests turned to me and saw my face. Before they could even ask, I blurted out, "I saw the shell! It's right outside! It's right in front of my car!" One of Derek's friends, completely calm and cool, went outside to retrieve it. He gave it to Derek, who then called our parents for advice. My brother decided to wait until the next morning to take it to the police, as he didn't want to make a scene. So Sunday morning, Derek and I went to the UNA police office (the door was locked) and then to the Florence Police Department, where the receptionist got in touch with a campus officer to meet with us. We were told that nothing could be done. So every night, there are a dozen or so drunken, loud, rowdy, vulgar heathens outside my door with guns. And no one seems to be concerned except for my brother, my parents, and me. And all my sane Cullman friends who don't understand why such behavior is tolerated. Maybe I'm just soft. -_- Either way, I'd feel safer back home, and I do believe I will be returning there at the end of this semester. A bachelor's Degree is not worth my own life or my brother's.