I'm nervous as hell for Cruz.

At this very moment, Ron's attention is laser-focused on Cruz. His gaze has narrowed to slits, glaring like he wants to incinerate his own son.

With my pulse in my throat, I tiptoe inside the study, creeping toward my aunt in quiet, steady steps. When I'm within arm's reach, I grasp Aunt Katrina's wrist and tug her away from Ron.

Away from the broken shards of crystal on the floor.

Jesus.

It's a fucking mess in here.

Ron doesn't seem to notice us. He only has eyes for Cruz. Slowly, stealthily, he stalks over to Cruz like a predator hunting new prey.

He stops mere inches away from Cruz's face and hisses, "You being smart with me, son?"

With Aunt Katrina whimpering softly behind me, I shuffle closer to them, readying myself to react in case Ron tries to lay a hand on Cruz. My eyes dart around the study. There's a thick hardcover resting on Ron's desk.

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand.

The book is larger than a brick, and, right away, I make plans to chuck it at Ron. If needed. To create a diversion for Cruz if Ron attacks him. I don't want to be a fucking hero, but I'll do it for Cruz. I don't want to see him get hurt.

To my dismay, though, Cruz chooses again to be selfless instead of being smart.

Acting like the fucking hero he warned me not to be, Cruz continues to stand his ground, firing back at his dad, "I already told you that I'm sorry and that I'm not gonna fuck up again. What more do you want from me?"

I notice that Ron's hands have curled into fists at his sides.

He spits furiously, "I want you to show me some respect!"

My hand drifts towards my phone as I take a page out of Chrissa's book. Secretly, I start recording this whole shitshow. I can't get any video since it would look too obvious if I pointed my camera directly at Ron. I can only get the audio, but, at least, this way, I'll have proof to threaten Ron with CPS—or the cops—even though the thought of doing so makes me want to pee my pants. I'm scared that threats might make Ron act out more violently against Cruz.

My entire body buzzes with stress as I continue recording this shit.

With sullen resolve, Cruz looks his dad in the eye and growls, "I... respect you."

I wince at the reluctance in his tone. Even I can tell that he's lying.

So can his dad, apparently.

Ron explodes, "You think I don't know what you're really thinking? I can tell when you're trying to bullshit me!"

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I see a blur go by. My aunt has sprinted past me to Ron. She's now clinging to his arm, pleading with him, "Please stop, baby. I hate to see you get so worked up over something so small—"

Roughly, Ron shoves Aunt Katrina aside, knocking her to the ground. "Not now, Katrina!"

Her body bumps into the side of the desk. She releases a soft, pained yelp upon impact. I don't think my aunt hit the desk hard enough to bruise or leave a mark, but, regardless, I see red. I've fucking seen enough. A wave of outrage courses through me, instilling me with a reckless courage that I didn't possess a moment ago.

In my mind, Ron becomes Chrissa. He becomes Brody, too. He turns into everything ugly and awful and unfair that I hate about life.

My phone is still recording as I cry out, "What the fuck!"

I dash over to my aunt's side to help her up. I glower at Ron. It's weird. I don't know where this sudden burst of ballsiness is coming from. At school, I'm too chickenshit to stand up to Chrissa and Brody, but, for some stupid reason, I'm not scared of Ron at the moment. Because, unlike Chrissa and Brody, I know he's not trying to hurt me.

He's trying to hurt the people I care about.

Like my aunt.

Like Cruz. 

It brings out the crazy in me.

My voice trembles with the fury of my namesake, of a war-like goddess, when I snarl at him, "Don't ever touch her again or I'll fuck you up, old man!"

Cruz's mouth parts with astonishment.

Rom actually winces from the force of my words.

I'm about to threaten him with my recording when my aunt suddenly bursts into tears. It catches me off guard. Genuine distress streams down her face, wetting her cheeks and reddening her nose.

At the sight of Aunt Katrina's outburst, Ron's invisible switch appears to click on once more. Remorse chases away the rage in his eyes.

"Shit," he mutters quietly, finally unclenching his fists.

Ron tries to approach Aunt Katrina, but Cruz blocks his way.

"You heard Athena," Cruz mutters angrily, "I doubt she wants you anywhere near Katrina right now."

With a beseeching expression, Ron begs, "I just want to apologize and make sure that Katrina's okay..."

My aunt blubbers through her tears, "You can let him through, Cruz. It's okay. I'm okay."

Cruz and I share a look of doubt and disbelief, but, a second later, he steps aside to let Ron go to Aunt Katrina.

Ron places a gentle hand on my aunt's shoulder and bewilders me by murmuring in sincere-sounding tones, "I'm so sorry, baby, I don't know what got into me. I promise I'll never lose my temper like that again..."

I squint my eyes at Ron.

Bullshit!

I want to call bullshit!

How can a person go from devil to angel so quickly?

Before I can speak up, though, my aunt accepts his apology, "It's okay, baby, I'm just relieved that you're acting like yourself again."

The storm in Ron has, at last, run its course. The shit on the fan is drying. I'm in shock at how quickly this whole messed up situation switched around on me. I don't know what to think as I watch Ron and Aunt Katrina wander out of the room together, hand in hand, like two lovers ready to kiss and make up.

It's like Cruz and I no longer exist in their alternate dimension of reality. Like nothing scary or violent ever happened between them. I stop recording on my phone and stare after Ron and my aunt with a dropped jaw. Cruz's gaze follows them out the study as well. A deep grimace forms on his face.

"What the hell just happened?" I whisper in a thin, hollow voice.

When Cruz responds, his words make me worry for my aunt all the more, "Same old shit that he used to pull on my mom."