Monday morning, I wake up to two adults screaming their lungs out at each other and giving the other a piece of their mind. One of them was fighting with a good intention, while the other stumbled around carrying the weekend’s hangover. I walk downstairs to have my daily bowl of cereal. The fresh taste of mint stained my mouth after brushing my teeth. Entering the kitchen, I walk past a table filled with beer bottles, some overflowing with urine, and others completely empty. I eat my cereal on that disgusting table while listening to Mom lecture Dad about his late night drinking. For me, this was all normal; I’ve tried to jump in and stop this madness, but it only ends up with Dad’s anger being fueled even more and he’ll take out his rage on Mom. I’ve learned to let Mom fight these battles and talk some sense into Dad and his habits, although in the end it won’t really matter. Today was a little bit different. Dad’s voice kept rising and Mom finally cracked. She struck him in the face and let out an ear-piercing scream that let out most her stress. I stopped eating and stood up knowing that I’d have to jump in no matter what this time. Dad looked up at me with the brightest-red face I’ve ever seen. He stomped towards the kitchen table, grabbed an empty beer bottle in front of me, and smashed it against the kitchen countertop. Glass shattered all over the kitchen floor. Mom entered fight-or-flight mode; she sprinted to the bathroom that had a door lock on it. Dad charged at her, but I wouldn’t let him. I grabbed him from behind wrapping my arms around his. He screamed and whipped his head back. His stubbly beard rubbed against my neck and the smell of alcohol leaked from his mouth. Mom looked out the door and came rushing when she saw the havoc. She was screaming worriedly and pulled the beer bottle out of his hands. He just kept on trying to fight back. Although I was struggling, I somehow pinned him down to the floor and yelled at Mom to call the cops. I couldn’t stand him anymore, Dad needed to leave. Mom dialed 911. Within three minutes, two policemen showed up at the doorstep. They handcuffed him and took him in. The last thing I remember was his tear-filled eyes. Those were tears of regret. I turned around and went to go comfort Mom.