“911, what is your emergency?”
“My brother is attacking me, and my father is here.”I managed to give our address before Aaron grabbed my wrist and knocked the phone from my hand.
The device slid underneath the coffee table, but I heard the operator continuing to speak through the connected call.
“Madison, can you hear me?”
Aaron looked at my father, then at the phone, and seemed uncertain for the first time that night.
Dad immediately stepped forward, his expression changing from amusement to irritation.
“Don’t worry about that call, Aaron.”
He glanced toward the front windows as though already calculating how long it would take for officers to arrive.
“Your sister has done this before, and we know exactly what to tell them.”
I tried crawling toward the phone, hoping the operator could hear enough to understand what was happening.
Aaron blocked my way while Dad lowered his voice and began constructing the explanation he expected both of us to accept.
