Nightmare

I woke up this morning, thinking it was all a dream. Thinking that, maybe, I was just so stressed out, I was having bad dreams. I was wrong, though, and I knew it. My step-father really had tried to kill his own daughter. And like a scared soldier in the front, I stood there shaking in my boots.
I keep thinking to myself that I should’ve acted sooner, instead of standing there, too sacred to move, as my step-dad tried to strangle and punch my step-sister. Is own daughter…. Who could do that?
Eventually though my adrenaline kicked in. I screamed at first, demanding that he stopped. My friend was calling the cops at the time.
I didn’t know what to do, so I yanked on his jacket, trying to pull him off. I remember the musty smell of cheap cigarettes and just as cheap beer. It was a smell I wish to not remember. Thinking about it just sends fear throughout me.
Yeah, I’m scared of him. Yeah, hope I never have to see him again. I’m terrified of him.
As he beat my sister, I finally realised what to do, and knew that he wasn’t going to stop. I grabbed his shoulders, after my sister kicked him in the face a few good times. I manage to get him into a choke hold. I didn’t want to hurt him, though, I really didn’t. I held back my strength.
I begged him to stop.
“This is your daughter, what the fuck are you doing?!” I screamed at him. I repeated it in undertones, not believing it; that he would try to kill her.
A friend came to the rescue. She got him into a choke hold, and gurgled, bleeding from his mouth and nose. Blood dripped onto my carpet. I know the stains will never come out, just like the memories of that terrible night is burned into my head. They’ll never go away.
I took the chance to get his hands out of her hair. He had been tugging and pulling on her hair, and she will feel the pain of the tugging in the morning. I clawed at his fingers and weaves them out, getting blood on my left arm from his mouth as he tried to continue his attack on my sister.
Eventually, we got him away from her. He lied on the ground, and faced him.
“This is your daughter. What are you doing to her?!”
He just stared at me, with eyes of rage and confusion. He stood up and the cops came. After talking, a lot of questions, and writing statements, they took him away.
I don’t know what happened to him. He’s schizo, yes, but schizos are not known to be violent. He’s developed narcissistic rage and some serious bipolar problems. He has always been bipolar, but it’s been getting worse.
I’m terrified of him. I don’t know what to do, we might have to move and I might have to change schools. I’m scared.