I never told my “mama boy” husband that I was the one who bought back

I steadied myself, feeling the coolness of the phone in my pocket as a lifeline. I could no longer let them treat me like this, like the dirt beneath their feet. I reached for my phone, my fingers numb and sticky with drying blood. As I dialed the emergency number, Agnes and Mark continued with their dinner, pretending I was invisible.

When the operator picked up, I tried to keep my voice calm despite the chaos around me. “I’d like to report a crime,” I said, my breath hitching slightly. “Illegal trespassing and assault.”

The operator’s voice was efficient, professional. “Can you give me your location and explain what happened?”