There's a difference between knowing something in your heart and then knowing for sure, knowing something that can no longer can be denied.
I knew he was abusing her way before I saw the bruises.
I could hear things going on behind closed and locked doors...things banging, sudden screams, crying, hushed voices, and threats. I was living in a War Zone with no real way out; I'm quite sure I could have went and lived with my father at some point, but I also didn't want to leave her alone.
Plus back then things were way different and nobody talked about what was going on at home.
One night I was awoken by a loud BANG and then a CRASH. I remember leaving my bedroom and crawling towards the top of the stairs, trying to peer around corners and see what was going on. I could hear fighting going on downstairs, a struggle...I remember being frozen for what seemed like forever...I didn't know what to do...then I heard her call my name, and a second later: "CALL THE POLICE!"
I scurried back to my room, dragged the phone down to the floor with me, and dialed the Police. I will spare you the rest of the details, but there began my very long love affair with Law Enforcement: they showed up, and the whole thing ended. They took him away that night.
The curious thing was that I was grounded the next day. Because family business was meant to stay within the family. And somehow, the very next night, the Terrorist was back.