Revenge

You don't argue with your mother's words. You're happy that this means everything is out of your hands.

Your mother takes your hand, and starts running with you, calling out for help. It's starting to rain now, and it doesn't take long for your clothes to get soaked through completely, and your hair to get plastered to your scalp.

Your mother pauses, and then turns to you, grabbing you by your shoulders, and shaking you quite hard. "Who was it?!" she demands. "Who was fighting your father?!"

Taken by surprise, it takes a few moments for the questions to register.

What are you going to do?