Under attack: inside job

Scared shitless. Going down in the deepest, darkest fear inside me. With a little 'help'.
Yesterday some kid was throwing snowballs at my living room window, another guy came, a big one, and the kid pointed at my house. The whole evening I was scared, afraid, hearing sounds of snowballs and kids giggling. Kids are predators.
This morning when I opened the curtains I saw footsteps in the snow, one pair of footsteps leading to my living room window and back. Big footsteps.
Sinking feeling. I tried getting to the place where this fear has been hiding. Writing, digging. It's too hard to realise how this is helpful and will get me further. The fear is too intense, too strong, I'm so scared. Why not admit it?
I am afraid of a boy, of some kids.
I don't know whether or not it matters that a specific memory is/might be (part of) the cause.
I don't know what to do with it anyway. I wrote about it a little before, tried to put it into a poem. Didn't want to write about it too much and drain its strength before starting my book. Silly? Maybe. There's things I've talked and/or wrote about too often, the impact now near to none.

There was a rat in my dream last night (apart from old murders and physical abuse); it was eating a melon from the inside out. It came out and scared the shit out of me, a dripping piece of red melon in its mouth.

It might be the stones. The group of kids pointing at me, joining each other to throw stones. Me trying to walk towards a safe place, where the adults were, head held high, even after a rock hit me in the back of my head.

So now, in situations where someone else would know what to do, I'm clueless. Anything I'd do would make things worse because I can't think straight. All I can think of doing besides hiding and sitting this thing out is writing, writing, writing, until the fear diminishes. So so sick of being scared.
The sky is blue, the sun is shining, trees and houses are covered in snow, and I'm losing my mind.
Fear is no fun. Also it doesn't help. It doesn't add anything useful to a situation. Yet still here it is like an unwanted guest, prolonging its stay indefinitely. What is the use of a fear like this? It doesn't warn me of anything except the darkness in my own thought constructs. Memories, repetition. What's the use? There's a rat in me, eating away at my insides, gnawing like crazy. Hungry bastard.

Crying now. Scared out of my mind.