A Night Of Hell

"Tell me you've had enough!" The voice of a young male screamed from another room as she laid there in bed, music blaring loud enough to almost drown out the yelling. She sprung out of bed, tossing her thin covers to the side.

"I'll be back shortly," she said quickly to the person on the other end of her phone call as she opened the door and left the room. Her footsteps padded by the carpet, she silently made her way down the hall and to the kitchen. Shattered glass shards were scattered across the white tile floor of the kitchen.

"Tell me you've had enough. Talia!"

"I..." The woman choked off as she clawed at her son.

"Kids, livingroom, now." She strode across the kitchen, barely noticing the glass shards pricking through the socks on her feet as rage fueled the adrenaline in her system. "Get the fuck off of her!" She gripped the young boy's arm as his mother struggled to get out of the headlock that had her struggling to breathe. Tugging on his arm, she went to knee him in the nuts, missing as he quickly turned his body away from her. "Let her go!" Talia kept struggling as he swung out his free arm to check the girl in the throat. Switching tactics, now that he'd hit her, she started pounding on him wherever her fists would land. "Get your fat hands off of me, woman!" She didn't stop. Face. Arm. Chest.

"Make her stop, Mama!" He didn't swing back as she continued her onslaught of hits until he released his mother. "Make her stop before I seriously hurt her."

"Try me, bitch!" Charlene snarled at him, placing herself between him and his mother the best she could.

"Call the cops!" Talia managed to gasp out as he tried to go back for her. The thirteen year old, Anna, in the other room pulled out her cellular device as he encouraged her to call the cops in him while still trying to go after his mother. Another punch landed before a force shoved her out of the way.

"Get the fuck out of the house!" The woman's fiance bellowed as he barreled into the scene, fury radiating from him in those moments. The two males grappled across the kitchen. The boy grabbed a shard of broken green glass and tried to stab the older man. Trying to step out of the way, the younger woman made her way swiftly to the entrance on the other end the kitchen, hoping that it would be over soon. The mother went into the room crying for 9-1-1 to send an ambulance because the Anna has collapsed into a panick attack, bordering on a seizure. Making herself as small as possible, Charlene turned sideways, as the two made their way to her area of the kitchen, thus shoving her multiple times against the stove before she could finally get out of the way.

"Tyler! Just fucking leave!" Talia cried out, begging her boy once again, as he raised a frying pan up over her fiance's head.

"Make me!" He snipped back.

"You don't lay your hands on a woman who didn't come at you first!" Charlene yelled at him as he spewed venomous words across the way.

"You don't ever lay your hands on a fucking woman!" Tyler turned at his bedroom door.

"This is why nobody likes you, sticking your nose in others' business!"

"No, you're the only one here with an issue with me! Just leave!"

"Oh really?" He gestured around him. "Just ask around!"

"Just get out!" Tears and mascara stained her face as she beseeched her son to leave the home and not return.

Going back to the 9-1-1 call, she begged them to hurry up with an ambulance. "She's having a seizure."

Swiftly moving into the carpeted livingroom, Charlene sank to her knees by the girl's side and gripped her hand. "It's a panick attack, Auntie." She looked at the girl, hoisting her dark haired head into he lap. "Anna, breathe with me, girlie. In through the nose. One. Two. Three. Four. Five." She stopped for a second. "Out through the mouth. One. Two. Three. Four. Five."

She looked at the younger sister and told her to go to the bedroom. Tyler came out of his room, a light t-shirt in hand, and fled out the front door. "Anna, mi bebecita, breathe." She lifted the girl's upper body so that she was holding her about half way upright in a sitting position. "Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro. Cinco." The girl's sweat-infused hair cascaded everywhere. "Out through the nose. Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro. Cinco." She cradled Anna's head close to her chest. "Es Okay, mi hermosa bebecita. In through the nose." She counted again in spanish. "Out through the mouth." Talia and Belle, the younger sister, held her, stroked her face as Charlene continued to have her breathe.

In.

Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro. Cinco.

Out.

Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro. Cinco.

Repeat.

"She'll be okay, Talia." Once the girl was able to move around without getting dizzy, Charlene took the phone from her aunt. "Hello? Yes, this is the other woman involved in the situation. The boy took off with a white shirt in his hands."

"Was he wearing any shoes?"

"I'm not sure. I was trying to focus on my cousin being okay. There's a thirteen year old female, an eleven year old female, a seven year old male, and a six month old female in the home. The thirteen year old is the one my aunt thought was having a seizure, but she's stable now."

"We've got two units on the way. Don't touch anything."

"Talia, Anna, leave the mess where it is! Cops need it for evidence."

The dispatcher stayed on the phone as until two cop cars pulled in the driveway and the officers made their way into the home. After taking photos of the mess, they took everyone's statements and information. Talia broke down in a recliner. "I don't know where I went wrong. I tried..." Her voice broke as the tears started back up. "I tried."

"Look at me, Auntie." Charlene took her aunt's hands in hers. "This isn't your fault."

"His father will think so."

"His father can rot. Only an abuser blames the victim. Only an abuser puts the victim's situation as their fault. We cannot control how others react in a situation, only how we react to another's actions." She tilted her aunt's chin up so that their eyes could meet. "This? None of this is your fault. This ain't the Tyler I used to know. He chose violence. He chose to strangle you. He chose to check me in the throat." Charlene looked at Anna. "He chose to keep going after he realized she was in a major panick attack." She looked down at their hands intertwined. "You cannot control how your child turns out. All we, as parents, can do, is try out best and pray that they turn out right. You hear me? Not. Your. Fault."