You would think a kid in a violent home would be immune to fighting, but I wasn’ t. My mom and Gary were shouting, screaming, and I was terrified. It seemed to have come out of nowhere, and now it wouldn’ t stop. I thought maybe I could slip out back where it was quiet, but when I went to go downstairs, they were on the landing. I stood frozen, as Gary cocked a fist and slammed it into my mom’ s face. He didn’ t stop there. He followed her as she tumbled down the last few steps, and pounced on her like a starved cheetah. I didn’ t stay to watch the rest.
When I got back to my window, there were two girls cutting through our yard. I pulled my window open and shoved my head out.“ Hey! Go call the cops! My dad is killing my mom!” Even screaming it, I remember my heart racing, one eye on the door in case he barged through.
The rest of that night is a blur. The cops came quickly, I held Amanda in the cool grass of our yard while they took statements. The neighbors gathered in their back doorways to watch, and finally my mom settled next to me, sobbing, as they bent Gary over the cable box. I laced my fingers through hers while they cuffed him, and when she reached out her hand for him and screamed his name, I held on and wished I could be enough.
13