You know the drill. Consenting adults, etc.
...
"Let's head up to Maine this weekend."
That was my mom asking if I wanted to cancel my plans, uproot my life, and cram myself into our sub mini compact car that's barely larger than a pack of bubble gum, and drive for 10 hours across the country to pick up my twin sister. The thing is we hadn't even spoken to her for 3 years since her boyfriend at the time wisked her away in the middle of the night and forced her to cut all ties with us. We only recently found out that she was in Maine through a friend of a friend of a... Well, you get the idea. We had also just discovered that he had recently tossed her out on her ear without anything but the clothes on her back, and she was at a homeless shelter.
"Are you kidding? Race you to the car!" I shouted as I vaulted over the back of the couch towards the door.
"Hold on just a hot minute! I know how important this trip is for all three of us, but it's a long drive, and I'm not going to be the only one preparing food and such for the trip, or I'll be the only one not starving when we get there."
That's my mom for you. Always thinking ahead. "Oh, right. PBJs good?"
"She is going to be hungry as well since the shelter can only afford to provide the bare minimum. Pull the roast slices out of the freezer from last weekend and make some RLTs (roast, lettuce, and tomato). I'm going to go to our rooms and grab some clothes for all of us and toiletries. Pack a few sodas and sport drinks as well."
We spent a about 10 minutes getting things together as fast as we could and we were on the road. With my car in the shop, my mom's eco-friendly tic-tac dispenser would have to hold us and our items for now. The seats up front were rather comfortable, but there were no back seats, only a micro deck for minimal cargo. That was taken up by our cooler containing our food and drinks, and a suitcase with 2 changes of clothes each for all 3 of us, just in case.
The trip North was uneventful. We mostly kept busy by listening to local radio stations until we got out of their range, then finding another. When the songs got boring, or we were between stations along the long country roads, we would reminisce about my sister and discuss the battle plan to get her home. It had occurred to us about halfway there that we only had 2 seats for 3 people. Thus far we had been switching driving responsibly about every 2 hours when we would stop stretch our legs. As we rolled into the tiny backwater town he had squirreled her away in, we still didn't have a solution to the transportation issue.
That would quickly be forgotten as we pulled up to the shelter. That scum bag was there. He had come looking for her to take her back because her replacement mysteriously ended up in the hospital in a coma and he wanted someone more durable for the night. He was trying to haul her to his car as the volunteers with the shelter pleaded with him to stop. I thought I registered one on the phone, presumably with the police, before my seat belt was off and I was out of the car before it stopped rolling.
That's the last thing I remember before the red haze faded. I was cuffed in the back of a cop car. My jaw hurt and I had trouble flexing the fingers on my right hand. I looked around to see paramedics loading a stretcher containing a long black bag on it into the ambulance. My gut clenched and my wails of despair caught in my throat. I had been too late, or not strong enough. My sister was dead. I started fighting my cuffs and looking around for my mom. I had to be with her. Then I spotted her. Tears cascading down her face as she tightly embraced my very much alive sister. My heart leapt and my cries finally escaped the confines of my throat as I shouted my sisters name.
She heard me and ran as fast as she could to the car I was being detained in, but was intercepted by the officer guarding me. Why won't they let her through? I couldn't understand. Finally, the Sergeant in charge came over and gathered us around to explain what's happening.
I was able to piece together what happened up to this point. Upon seeing my sister getting assaulted, I had gone into what's known as a berserker rage. According to the witness reports, he had seen me coming and had thrown her aside to deal with me. His right hook connected with my jaw at the same time my hands clinched around his throat and we both hit the ground with me on top. He was not able to throw another punch, and never would again. He got knocked out on impact, and I started punching him so hard that, according to a witty comment from the medics, "Good luck even getting an ID through dental." The first officer on scene had to tazer me to get me off of him, and had cuffed me for my own protection, and so he could get everyones statements before pressing any formal charges.
