My son-in-law knocked me to the ground. My daughter dragged me out by my hair

as if the words themselves could stitch me back together.

The officers approached cautiously, their expressions a mix of professionalism and empathy. They helped me to my feet, their eyes scanning the scene: the blood on my face, the torn clothes, the neighbors gathered in shocked clusters.

Brandon and Alyssa had locked the doors, but the police weren’t deterred. Knocking firmly, they announced themselves, demanding to be let in. When the door finally opened, Brandon’s bravado crumbled under their stern gaze. His attempt to feign ignorance of the situation fell flat when Alyssa appeared behind him, her eyes wide with panic.