The most terrifying moment for me happened about in August. I live with my parents, and their relationship has been gradually going down hill, and it never really became obvious to me until that night.

They went out-- they do that a lot, get drunk, come home. Whatever, I'm used to it by now. But, this night is different. It's about maybe 10pm or so, not sure, but I'm on Skype with my SO and I hear yelling outside, so I glance out my window to see my dad throwing a wooden chair full force at something. I flip out, and immediately run downstairs. My mother is in their room, presumably passed out, and my dad is inside, throwing plates, tupperware of food, kicking metal dog bowls, and yelling about what a bitch my mother is, slurring and talking about how he is so incredibly done with everything.

At this point, it's incredibly obvious that he's fucked up on something (which I later find out to be large quantities of alcohol mixed with pain killers). He tells me that my mom accused him of molesting me (not true), and continues to break shit left and right, yelling. Claims he's going to kill her once. I'm scared absolutely shitless, and run upstairs on the verge of tears with my dogs so that he doesn't hurt them. I'm sobbing, don't know what to do, and I'm freaking out. There's glass all over the floor from broken glasses and the backdoor window, so I stay upstairs. I call my both my sisters in hysterics, one drives by but does nothing and the other says she's going to come by tomorrow and pick me up.

So, I spend the night flinching at every crash and scream, at every sound of glass breaking. I manage to fall asleep once things fall silent, and wake up when my sister arrives. Two windows are broken, there's food stains on the walls, my mom has a 4in gash across her wrist, there's blood covering the sink and my father claims my mother threatened him with a gun. My father is still there, saying he wants to leave and again, how done he is with everything, but cannot find his wallet. My mother is in hysterics, about the whole ordeal. I go live with my sister for a while.

Of course, I'm back at home again, and even though they promised to stop drinking, they still do it every weekend. I'm always afraid that they're going to get too drunk again and almost kill each other again. My mother recently had a suicidal episode, in which I incidentally found out by being a stupid snoop that she had been molested by her own father when she was young, which explains the wild accusation in the previous event. I've walked on my mom unconscious on the ground from being drunk before, and I'm just scared that next time she won't just be unconscious.