No cure. Or is there?

The plan.

I woke up at 4:00 AM which is the worst thing ever for me, and I could hear the usual sounds. Banging, screaming, knives, punching, and just some really inappropriate stuff that my little brother shouldn't see.

I focus on my surroundings to see a bright piece of paper sticked on the front of my bed with tape.

"911 December 26" was written in a big font that could be seen from my bed.
The plan! I thought. I was actually quite scared. I have a chance of getting killed today and I definitely don't want well, that.

I opened the door very carefully and quietly, and ran, actually sprinted, upstairs to my telephone with my heart pounding.

I dialed 911 on the phone and called the police, my hands nervously shaking because my father could pop up any moment and beat me.
"911 what is your emergency?" The girl on the phone kindly asked.
"I really need you to come as soon as possible...My father is drunk and he is punching my mother! I need help just come fast please!" I said nervously breaking down at the last word...

What happened next was....
Terrifying.

Hello, if you are probably my first reader, please comment on suggestions because you know..
My writing is a bit....
Bleh.
Hopefully you liked this so far,
And I don't need any votes to write,
Because I write for fun!
Well...
What's the fun in writing when no one reads it?
So maybe in the latest days of my writing, just press that little star so I could see if someone reads this.
Note: Cassandra (the character) is not a representation of me, my father does not beat on my mother, this is to show just how it feels like, and to promote awareness (if anybody even reads this.) thanks.