Chapter 7 - The Relatives Come Knocking
On Friday afternoon, while the kids were at school, a loud knock sounded at my front door.
I checked the ring camera on my phone. Standing on my front porch were Uncle Warren and Aunt Linda—the same uncle who had chuckled when my son was kicked, and the aunt who had sat quietly eating turkey while my daughter was slapped.
I opened the front door, leaving the heavy iron security screen locked between us.
"Rebecca," Uncle Warren began, trying to force a warm, familial smile that looked entirely fake. "Thank God you're home. We need to talk."
"You have two minutes," I said, keeping my hands tucked into my coat pockets.
Aunt Linda dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Rebecca, honey... this has gone way too far. Your mother is in jail! She can't handle prison food! Her blood pressure is through the roof!"
"She should have thought about her blood pressure before she struck my daughter," I replied smoothly.
Uncle Warren shifted uncomfortably. "Look, we know Richard lost his temper. He’s an old-fashioned man! But taking this to the police? Putting your own sister in handcuffs? The whole town is talking about us! Our family name is ruined!"
I looked at Warren—really looked at him. I remembered the sound of his low chuckle while my eight-year-old son lay curling in pain on the floor.
"You laughed, Warren," I said, my voice dropping into a register that made him flinch.
"What?"
"When my father kicked Tyler to the floor, you sat at that table and laughed," I said. "You said, 'That’s what happens when kids don't know their place.'"
Warren’s face flushed red. "I... I was just trying to cut the tension!"
"No," I corrected him coldly. "You were being a coward. You watched a grown man abuse a child and a woman, and you enjoyed the show. All of you did."
"Rebecca, please!" Aunt Linda begged. "Drop the charges! Tell the prosecutor it was a mistake! If they go to trial, Richard and Elaine will spend years in prison!"
"They deserve every single day," I said.
"You selfish, heartless brat!" Warren suddenly barked, dropping his fake polite act. "After everything your parents built for you! You’re destroying this family over a little bump on the head!"
"Get off my porch," I commanded quietly.
"We aren't leaving until—"
I raised my phone, showing the screen. "The security camera is recording. I have an active protective order. If you aren't off my driveway in ten seconds, the police will arrest you for trespassing and witness harassment."
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Warren glared at me with absolute hatred, but the fear of arrest won. He grabbed Linda’s arm and dragged her down the steps toward their car.
As their car pulled away, I closed the front door and locked it tight. The toxic web of excuses, fake loyalty, and enabling had finally been severed forever.
