Sometimes, every single thing that can go wrong will absolutely 100% go wrong. This is the turning point. It’s the beginning of the end of things, or at least this cycle.

Marcus is always in-and-out, push-then-pull, loving-then-running-from family. I’m pretty sure he’s on his way out again. At this point it seems like a matter of time before the volcano erupts, sweeping our family dynamic under mounds of smoking viscous deluge. Let me start at the beginning of this particular ending.

The weekend began with temperatures well below freezing and a snowstorm in the forecast. Luke and I awoke to a frigid morning wrapped in murky gray winter sunlight. There was no cheerful burbling noise from the radiator. We could practically see our breathe…inside the house. Our furnace was out. On a holiday weekend.

After several phone calls where cheerful operators offered to send a technician out to fix the problem AFTER the long weekend, we found someone willing to work a Saturday. At first he thought it was an easy fix, maybe a few hundred dollars. Would we like it fixed today? Yes!

Marcus borrowed the car and left with his girlfriend. Mary, Luke and I made our way to the Grocery Store for warmth and (as an afterthought) some groceries. Right before snowstorms, a New England market resembles a post-apocalyptic horror film. As we fought our way through panicked shoppers we got the call. The furnace fix was actually more of a replacement-situation. It would probably run over $2,000. Super.

In the parking lot of the grocery store Marcus suddenly appears in a full panic. He is shouting, pacing, and waving his arms in a frantic jerky motion. It’s hard to tell what he’s referring to or when he arrived.

“They f-ing did it, man. Some guys f-ing got me. What the hell?! Why does this sh-t happen to me?!!”

I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me as he interspersed his rant with spurts of anger against bystanders. In the grocery store parking lot, patrons driving or walking by were met with Marcus yelling and charging at them.

“What the F–K are YOU LOOKING AT?! I bet you’re f–ing in on it. You like this, A–HOLE?!?!!”

I wedged mysef between the raging Marcus and the bewildered bystanders. Eventually he ushered me over to our SUV and showed me a completely shattered rear glass panel. A disjointed story followed peppered with expletives and semi-delusional statements of paranoia.

It seems some sort of road rage incident ended with 2 men in a pickup truck cutting Marcus off, getting out and smashing one of the SUV windows. Marcus is so full of panic and rage that he’s convinced someone from his ex-girlfriend’s past has hunted him down in our state. Also the local shoppers may be in on it.

He is yelling at me, yelling at passerby, and completely out-of-control raging. Mary begins to sob, both kids are shaking and glass bits continues to fall out of the window as the winter wind blows. Marcus is enraged that he moved out of the city to get away from being jumped and it’s happened in our sleepy town. He is not safe anywhere.

Once we are home I wisely give him an Ativan before the police come to take his statement. There’s nothing they can do except go back to the area to see if the pickup truck returns. Marcus, however, can’t hear this. Even after the officer leaves, Marcus gets progressively drunk on corona and collects a skin cell from the smashed window with my tweezers. He places this in a ziplock bag CSI style, convinced he’s cracked the case.

I try in vain to explain to Marcus that this kind of forensic evidence is too costly and won’t be pursued. He won’t hear me. He is raging and yelling about how he plans to escape the “next time” someone tries to tie him up. He has plans about being stabbed and beaten as well.

At this point it’s been close to 4 hours since the incident. I’ve had a hot shower, the heat is on and everyone is home safe. But Marcus is ranting and yelling and has not stopped for even 5 minutes. He’s calling friends from the city to back him up. He’s threatening to cut off fingers, steal a car, and commit various and sundry crimes to any and all that are “after him.”

This rage lasts a whopping 48 hours. He stays up all night. The next day at 1:30pm he wakes up screaming at his siblings to be quiet because no one should be making noise in the house. Because he is in an irrational place he focuses his anger on Carl. He is mad about things that aren’t actually even happening.

Luke and I keep them apart and contain Marcus as best we can. We do not allow Marcus to drive in this state. Carl is afraid of him and sleeps in the living room. Meanwhile Marcus locks Carl out of the bedroom without his shoes.

By the 3rd day Marcus is calm but depressed. He wants a job. His siblings are spoiled. He can’t understand why I haven’t written him a resume yet (?!) or why we ask him to be quiet in the middle of the night, yet we make noise in the daytime. He’s frustrated he doesn’t have his own room. He wants his own car. According to Marcus he is over the incident and it never bothered him in the first place.

Today Luke is having a talk with him. The truth is that once Marcus’ trauma is triggered he cannot think clearly at all. He can’t hear anything we say. He has little to no concept that he’s just raged out of control for 2 days. He is unaware that his actions affected others. He doesn’t remember most of it.

However, our heat is fixed. The snowstorm is past. Now it’s time for all of us to dig out and keep going. Hopefully, Marcus will stay. However, I see the signs of an awakening volcano in our forecast.

**Names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.