“Please come home, Dad! Mom is screaming.”
My son contacted me ten times during a typical workday while I was in a meeting. My heart sank with each missed call. Finally, with shaking hands, I called him back during the break.
“Dad, I don’t know what to do. His voice shook as he added, “I just got home and I heard my mom screaming in my room.
“Why didn’t you go to her room?” I asked trying to keep my fear from overwhelming me and keep my voice calm.
Terrified, he said into the phone, “I hear other voices inside. I’m too scared to go in.”
I immediately called my wife, but she did not answer.
I was forced to call 911 in case they got here sooner. The drive home seemed endless and my mind kept spinning with the worst-case scenarios.
I didn’t think twice about going home when I finally did.
I heard the distant faint sound of police sirens and ran to our bedroom door. I was amazed at what I saw when I broke through the door and adrenaline was pumping through my veins.
My wife, her eyes wide with terror, was crying and shaking as she lay on the bed. I was unable to understand the language that was being sung by three individuals – two men and one lady.
There was a strange light in the room and they were holding strange objects.
“Get away from her!” I screamed but they refused to stop. I jumped on the nearest person and knocked them to the ground. The other two stepped back, taken aback by my sudden aggression.
My son called, “Daddy!” from the door, and when I turned to look at him, tears were streaming down his face.
“Call the police again, tell them to hurry!” he shouted, turning back to my husband. Her screams split the air as she continued to writhe. I grabbed her shoulders and tried to keep her calm.
It’ll work, honey. I’m here,” I murmured, assuring myself more than her.
The police showed up within minutes, burst into the room, and dragged the intruder out.
The paramedics then rushed to my wife. It broke my heart to see her in agony as I watched helplessly as they tried to stabilize her.
It took the paramedics several hours to calm her down. After being taken to the hospital, she was given medication and was under close supervision. After the intruder was apprehended by the police, I had to piece together what had happened.
As I sat by her bedside in the hospital, I prayed that my wife would wake up.
My little boy was sitting next to me, holding my hand tightly.
“Dad, what happened?” He asked in a scared and quiet voice.
“I’m not sure my friend,” I replied, my voice choked with emotion. “But we can do it. “I promise.”
When my wife woke up she was scared and confused. She was only vaguely aware of the day’s events, except that she felt sick the whole time until everything went dark.
The results of the police investigation revealed that the intruders belonged to a cult that thought they could heal people with their energies. They came for my wife because they thought she was special.
The next few days were filled with trips to the hospital, police interviews, and trying to comfort my child. But despite everything, we stuck together and supported each other.
It took a while, but my wife gradually recovered. The mental scars lingered even after the physical wounds had healed. To start over, we moved into a new home and focused on starting over.
Looking back, I see how close I came to losing everything. Even though I was nervous and insecure, I also found a strength I didn’t know I had. And I learned that no matter what happens, family bonds and love can get us through the hardest times.
The harrowing experience of that day left an indelible mark on our lives and shaped the way we viewed the safety and dynamics of our family. As we navigated the aftermath—hospital visits, police interviews, and the emotional loss of my son and wife—we realized how fragile life can be. The fear we felt in those moments turned into a renewed sense of mutual appreciation and love that binds us together.
Moving to a new home provided a fresh start, an opportunity to rebuild not only our physical space but also our emotional resilience. She became a symbol of our commitment to healing, both individually and as a family. While the memories of that horrific incident lingered, they no longer defined us. Instead, they served as a reminder of our strength and unity in the face of adversity.
Through this journey, I discovered a deeper understanding of what it means to be a protector and comforter for my family. This experience reinforced the notion that while we may face unexpected challenges, it is our bonds of love and support that truly help us overcome them. As we look to the future, I hold on to the belief that we can weather any storm if we stand together, strengthened by the love that carries us through the darkest times.