It was a bright afternoon and I was inside enjoying the AC and the celling was a dull yellow color and the fan was running. In the house there was a gray big couch and a cat was walking by--- it was peaceful.  
 
Suddenly, I heard arguing break out. They migrated into the living room like a flock of birds in the winter. The argument broke the peacefulness of the house, it went on for what seemed to be hours, and I could see anger building up in my brother’s greenish hazelnut eyes. 

Next thing I know, my brother got up from his seat, curse words spilling out of his mouth. He started to walk away from the argument, going upstairs, but mom wasn’t having it. She yelled, “Get your butt down here or you’re losing video games for a month.” 
 
After that, he came downstairs like mom said and then she started in again with him. My brother had enough of this argument. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he lunged at my mother like a cheetah pouncing on a gazelle, beating her on the arms, legs, and finally, the neck. 
 
Mom fell to the floor and started crying bloody murder. She yelled, “My neck, oh my neck, I think he broke it.” My dad came running up the stairs yelling curse words at my brother.  
 
My dad called the police, and they told my mother that she couldn’t press charges on him because he is an underage autistic “child” which doesn’t make any sense because he was sixteen years old at the time. 
 
My mom called her friend, begging her to bring her to the hospital. The next day, when I came home from school, I went to my mother to ask her if she was alright and she responded, “No, my neck is broken, they took an x-ray and told me it was.” 
I was very scared when I saw my brother lash out on my mom like he did, when I saw my mom lying on the floor, something inside me broke. It was a feeling like no other, even when my family’s relatives or pets died, I never had a feeling like this. It was like at that moment my feelings, heart, everything inside me, died. 
 
For all these years, all this violence, has made me think about my life, how has this all effected ME? Well, I’ll tell you what I’ve thought about for all these years. How I view it is that maybe, just maybe, all these negative events might be positive for me. Maybe these are all lessons of what not to do and maybe, these horrible, horrific events might just help me later in life. And maybe having possible PTSD might help me tell my story, and help others get through similar things that happened in my childhood.