I heard screaming.
It’s late, minutes past 10.30 p.m. and I’m just getting ready to shut down my computer. My eyes were heavy, and I’m right in that sweet spot where I know when I lay down, I’ll be out like a light.
It’s cold. The kind of cold that seeps through walls, slides under doors and numbs the glass in the windows. The weather app said it’s going down into the low 40’s and I’m looking forward to slipping under the comforter because my toes are freezing.
Then, the scream. Loud. Raw. Shattering the quiet outside my window. A woman’s voice.
We live in a sleepy bedroom community. During the day, the neighborhood is silent and empty, everyone is at work. At night the silence returns — everyone hits the sack around 8.00 p.m. to spin the cycle around again. No one is up at 10.30 p.m.
I lifted the edge of my blinds to see. Outside, directly across the street, chaos. The neighbors are fighting. The wife is pulling at her hair and yells at her husband as he eases into their driveway. He’s home late. That’s unusual for this neighborhood.
Their teenaged daughter is walking nervously up and down their driveway. She’s in her PJs and fuzzy bedroom slippers.
