"Who is that?" the voice from inside asked as a small metal viewing hatch slid open from within the compound.
"My name is Harrison," I said softly. "I am having some issues in my home. Please could you lend me a bit of your assistance."
The man sighed heavily, exhaustion lining his voice. Then he spoke in an irritated tone: "I have had a very stressful day. Please just go. I do not want to hurt you."
"But sir, my parents are fighting each other," I pleaded, my voice shaking as tears filled my eyes. "One of them could get hurt."
"And how is that any of my concern?" he snapped. "Your parents can kill each other for all I care. Do I look like a family therapist or social services or the police? Everybody in the neighborhood knows how violent your house is. Do not stress me with your family issues. I have a family too."
With that, he slammed the viewing hatch shut and went back inside.
Frustrated and desperate, I went from house to house throughout the neighborhood. At every door, I received the same response.
"What do you want, kid?" the owner of the last house asked, irritation etched across his face.
"Please, my dad and my mom are fighting," I said quietly. "Can you please help us?"
"Get out of here," the wife shouted angrily. "We have our lives too. Do not disturb us with your family issues. Suck up your problems like a man and solve them yourself."
Before I could react, she poured a bucket of hot water over me.
"Oh, I see," I said weakly. "I am sorry for disturbing you."
I walked away and spent nearly twenty minutes wandering outside. As I walked, I prayed silently that no one would get hurt. At the same time, bitterness filled my heart toward the people who refused to help us. Rain poured down heavily as I finally ran back home, unaware that what I was about to see would change me forever.
Back at home, my mother grabbed James by the shirt and shouted: "Answer me, you son of a bitch."
"Yes, I did," he replied mockingly. "So what are you going to do about it?" He yanked himself free from my sister and Cecilia and laughed loudly.
"It is my money," he continued. "You have no right to tell me what to do with it. It is stashed in a box in the basement. I hid it because I knew you would never find it." He brushed himself off and sneered. "I am going to bet more. I need money to buy another bottle of beer."
As he turned toward the door, he was suddenly stabbed from behind with a bottle held by Christine. Cecilia's eyes widened in shock.
"Mom, stop," Cecilia cried. "You are going to kill him."
"You bitch," my father groaned in pain as he grabbed my mother by the hair and dragged her inside. Blood poured from his stomach as my mother lunged at him again.
"Everything that ever happened in this house is your fault," he screamed. "Because of you, I lost everything. Can I not at least use my money however I want?"
He pulled out a sharp penknife from his jacket and aimed it at Cecilia. Instantly, my mother stepped in front of her. The blade slashed her left eye. She screamed in rage, snatched the knife away, and stabbed him in the throat repeatedly. Blood gushed everywhere as Cecilia watched in horror.
"It is not my fault, you bastard," my mother shouted through tears as she kept stabbing him. "If you had not raped me, you would not have been kicked out of your family or lost your job. I begged you that night. I cried and screamed for you to stop. You could not control yourself. You kept taking advantage of me every day. Even when I begged you to stop, you did not. You forced me to get pregnant with Cecilia and ran away. I had to find you and tell your family what you did, and they forced you to take responsibility."
"Please stop," my sister tried to say, but the words died in her throat. She could only watch in terror as blood splattered across her face. At last, my mother stopped stabbing him and staggered back, breathing heavily.
"I am," James wheezed, struggling to speak as he reached out toward Catherine's face.
"I am sorry, Catherine," he said weakly. "I have not been the best husband or father to you or Cecilia or Harrison. I hope you forgive me. Take this card."
He pulled a card from his jacket and handed it to her.
"Why now?" my mother cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. "Why are you apologizing now? Why did you never try to be a good person?"
"It is fine," he whispered. "I deserve this. I did many terrible things. I deserve to die, at least by your hands."
He turned his head toward Cecilia, who knelt beside him, crying.
"I am sorry, Cecilia, for not taking care of you," he said softly. "Tell Harry I am sorry too."
The light faded from his eyes.
"Mummy, Daddy, stop fighting," I cried as I ran inside. "I could not find help from outside to stop."
My words froze in my throat. I saw my sister kneeling in a pool of blood beside our father's body.
"What happened, mummy?" I asked in shock. "What happened to daddy?"
"I," my mother began, but my sister interrupted her.
"I am sorry, Harry," Cecilia said, holding a broken bottle and a penknife. Tears streamed down her face as she forced a smile. "I killed daddy. I stabbed his heart."
"But you were trying to stop the fight," I said, trembling. "Why did you do it?"
"He was going to kill our sweet mummy," she replied. "He even blinded her left eye. Look."
She pointed to our mother, who was sobbing as blood poured from her left eye.
"Mummy, take this," I said, tearing a piece of my clothes and gently covering her eye. "You will be fine now."
I looked around at the blood soaked room and clenched my fists.
"What should we do now?" I asked quietly.
Then I turned to Cecilia and held her close.
"It is not your fault," I said through tears. "It is the people who refused to help us when we cried out. They deserve to be punished."
I patted her back as my tears fell silently.