Standing between my parents in the kitchen, I shielded my mum Zahra, then 42.
‘Stop it, Dad!’ I yelled as my older sister Atena stood close in a fighting stance.
Like usual, the two of us, then 21 and 22, had rushed to protect Mum after hearing our dad Ziaollah's raised voice.
We'd grown up in the shadow of his violence.
Dad was always flying off the handle, raising his fists to Mum, kicking and slapping us kids, or whipping us with his belt.
Atena and I tried to protect Mum and shelter our younger sister Anita, then 11, from the chaos.
Now, unable to get past us, Dad totally
