"I probably deserved that," Dad said, rubbing his red cheek. He nodded towards the door, still shaking from the slamming it had received. "Run after her, would you Kelly? Make sure she doesn't get in that car."
I nodded and quickly exited the room. It wasn't difficult to follow Mum's pathway through the house: it was littered with fallen things, broken things. I could hear the sound of the garage door opening, a loud squeaking noise that always set my teeth on edge.
"Mum!" I called as I ran through the kitchen and out through the utility room, into the garage. She was sitting in the car, and as I ran towards it, she turned the key. The car spluttered and died. Mum swore and tried again.
"Mum!" I shouted again and tried the car door, expecting it to be locked. I wasn't, and I pulled it open and flung myself onto the seat as the engine roared into life.
...
That actually sounds like a situation all of them need to escape ... how evocative of a family in crisis, down to the details of the home and even the car not working right at first!