“Daddy, please come home!! Mom is screaming…”
My son called me 10 times while I was in a meeting. I called him back ASAP and was freaked out:
Son: Daddy, I don’t know what to do. I just came home and can hear Mom screaming in her room.
Me: Why didn’t you walk into her room?
Son: I’m too scared to go inside. I hear male voices inside.
I immediately called my wife, but there was no answer. I called 911 in case they could get there faster. When I finally reached home, I broke into our room as the police sirens screamed in the background. I imagined anything, but NOT WHAT I JUST SAW as it wasn’t my wife but MY sister-in-law, Kelly, lying on the floor, screaming in pain.
She was clutching her abdomen, and there was blood everywhere. Two men, paramedics, were already there, having arrived just before me, trying to stabilize her. My son was hiding behind the door, his face pale with fear and confusion.
“Where’s Mom?” I demanded, my heart pounding in my chest.
One of the paramedics looked up. “Your wife called 911 before passing out. She’s in the living room. We need to get her to the hospital as well.”
I rushed to the living room, where I found my wife, unconscious but breathing. The paramedics quickly moved her to a stretcher and started loading her into the ambulance. Kelly was still screaming, her pain unbearable.
The police officers, who had followed me inside, were trying to piece together what had happened. “Sir, do you have any idea who could have done this?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this,” I replied, my mind racing. I grabbed my son’s hand and followed the paramedics to the ambulance.
At the hospital, I paced the waiting room, my thoughts a whirlwind of worry and confusion. My wife and Kelly were both in surgery, and I had no idea what had happened or who could have attacked them.
After what felt like an eternity, a doctor came out to speak with me. “Your wife is stable. She had a minor head injury but nothing life-threatening. Your sister-in-law, however, is in critical condition. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Can I see my wife?” I asked.
The doctor nodded, leading me to her room. She was still unconscious, her face pale and bruised. I sat by her side, holding her hand, trying to make sense of everything.
A detective came in a short while later. “Mr. Anderson, we need to ask you some questions,” he said.
I nodded, exhausted but desperate for answers. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt your wife or sister-in-law?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. This doesn’t make any sense.”
“We’re investigating a few leads,” the detective said. “We found evidence of a break-in, but nothing seems to have been stolen. We’re looking into any possible motives.”
As the hours passed, my wife finally woke up. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around, disoriented. “What happened?” she asked weakly.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “Kelly… she was hurt badly. Do you remember anything?”
My wife shook her head slowly. “I don’t… I just remember coming home and seeing Kelly on the floor. Then everything went black.”
The detective continued to question us, but we had no answers. The days that followed were a blur of hospital visits and police interviews. My sister-in-law remained in critical condition, and the mystery of what had happened weighed heavily on all of us.
Finally, a breakthrough came. The police arrested a suspect—an ex-boyfriend of Kelly’s who had a history of violence. He had broken into our house, looking for her, and things had escalated horribly. He was charged with assault and attempted murder.
While the truth brought some closure, the scars of that night remained. My wife and sister-in-law slowly recovered, but the fear and trauma lingered. Our family was forever changed, but we held on to each other, determined to heal together.