Scared

Saturday night, my parents got into a heated argument. I was in the shower when it started, and my sister was in her room, trying to sleep. The argument turned into a fight, yells, screams, until I heard a bunch of thuds in succession. This is when my sister ran out of her room, crying, yelling at my dad to stop. I don't know what happened, and my mom and my dad are telling different stories about what happened, and I'm afraid to ask my sister. I think my dad was hitting my mom. I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around myself, and went to see. My sister was standing in between my dad and my mom. Our parents kept saying to go back to her room, but she wouldn't leave. I think she was scared something bad was going to happen. I was too.
My mom and my dad come from dysfunctional families. So it makes sense that ours is also dysfunctional. Who's family isn't? But because my parents came from exceptionally dysfunctional families, our family is also exceptionally dysfunctional. Maybe one day I'll go into the history of us, but for right now, I'll give you a little bit of a look inside my parents head. My mom is an extrovert, highly argumentative, and outspoken. My dad is an introvert, mostly soft spoken, and kind. I love them both. When situations arise, usually when emotions are high, my mom is the one that does most of the talking; my dad is the one that listens and takes it all in, without saying a word. This is when it becomes dangerous.
Dad is the kind of person who bottles his emotions, until one day, *KABOOM* he explodes. This often results in a hole in the wall, covered by a picture of a mirror, but this time, he took it out on the object giving him the most pain, Mom.
Of course, my parents' arguments don't end when their children come out to play. They continue, in front of them. Before my dad started running up and down the stairs to figure out what he was going to do, he flipped one of our tables over. Glass shattered, made a tinkling sound; my mom's cell phone was in pieces (although I was told later that my dad had taken it earlier and threw it); and I realized after I got dressed after I finished my shower that my laptop was on the same table. I was just too in shock to think about it until after it was all said and done, and I got to calm down just a bit.
My sister and my mom were getting out of the house, my dad was running around, trying to fix what he had done while still fuming from his rage, and I was sitting near the wreckage of the table, making sure my laptop wasn't damaged. (Thankfully, it wasn't, and it's what I'm using now to type this up.) I was trying to get my dad to calm down and talk to me. He wouldn't. He just kept walking around in a fast pace. That's when a family friend ran up the stairs and walked in, asking me where my dad was. I pointed to the kitchen, and that's when I broke down and went to my room.
My dad ended up going to the family friend's house with the family friend, and the friend's wife stayed at home with my mom to talk. Later, the women went to the men, and my sister and I don't know what happened there. We stayed in my room, with the dog, until 2 AM, crying, talking. My eyes were so swollen the next morning, and my cough and fever weren't doing too well either (I was, and still am, sick).
I'm going to skip the next day. Well, most of it: Dad and I stayed home, Mom and my sister were out for most of the day. And then Mom, Dad, and my sister stayed away from each other when we were all home.
Now we're to today. Dad went to work, he's back now. Faith went to the city mall with her friends for the day, and she still isn't back...Mom and I stayed home. We didn't talk about Saturday. She did show me her bruises though, which aren't too bad, although it sounded like it hurt a lot.
My parents are talking about Saturday, and their marriage, right now. Civilized, for now. They weren't earlier. My mom has wanted to go to counselling for the longest time; my dad has always resisted. He doesn't like strangers knowing about his private life. Then again, his friends don't know about his family life either. But, about an hour ago, my dad agreed to it; my mom just has to set an appointment, which I'm hoping she does. I find that they both back out of the most serious of things; something they have in common but won't admit to.
I want them to work it out. What child doesn't?

I've been debating whether I should post this up or not, while writing this entire thing. I feel like people who eventually read this won't like it, and will probably advise me to call the police the next time it happens or something. The thing is this is the first time my dad has ever hit any one of us. But I'm scared it's going to happen again. Even though my dad isn't a violent person, he does get angry, sees red, doesn't know what he's doing until after he's done it. And he's not apologetic. I love him so much, and I don't want to lose him, but I don't want anything bad to happen to the rest of my family either. This is such a difficult situation. I don't like pretending everything's normal when it's not, and I don't know what to do without completely offending my parents.

I hope counselling works.

I start school tomorrow; I missed today because of my cold. Hopefully I'll feel better. About everything.
Love.