(Though the names and some details have been changed, all of this really happened. Except for the parts that didn’t.)
“Daddy’s killing Mommy,” I said, shortly before my father snatched the phone from my 4-year-old hands and shattered it against the wall.
That’s one of my earliest memories. Not knowing what else to do, I’d called my grandmother from the rotary telephone in the kitchen, while my father strangled my mother in their bedroom.