From the Bottom of a Whisky Bottle

This is the start of one of the stories I'm working on.....

There was a loud crash in the room below my feet and an angry bellow.  With my back against the door, clutching the bottle of whisky to my chest, I reviewed my escape options.  This had been my brothers room, the only hint of him was in the blue duvet set and old wardrobe we played Narnia in.  The only exits were the small window to my left or the skylight above my head. Luckily the window, although narrow, was unlocked.  I quickly opened it and straddled the window ledge, my body half in, half out, so I could work out my escape route.  To my right, the sloping extension roof was just too far away.  "Not a chance" I cursed. The only alternative would be to drop the one storey down, but the kitchen window was directly below. Would he be able to see me dangling?  Would he rush outside?