What's your earliest memory?

I was 3 years old when i was awakened by my parents whom were in a serious fight. I walked out of my room while rubbing my eys from sleepiness to inquisition what was happening.Upon opening the door ,immediately stepping into the battlefield,my feet being stabbed with shards of porcelain and glass. I screamed ,squeezing my tiny fists from the intensity of the excruciating pain. My father covered in blood himself, ran from behind the kitchen bar. Quickly scooping me up from the shard covered floor. He carried me into the the bathroom next to my room , sat me on the toilet seat cover. It's there that i temporarily forgot about the pain i was in because my father was head to toe drenched in blood and crying. This was something i had never seen at the time. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I hurt my little baby, oh god ,please listen I'm so sorry!" he whimpered as the snot and tears splashed on to my twig like legs. My mother not even a minute later began to pound on the door,insanely drunken, screaming, "You open this muther-fucking door you pieces of shit!" I started to scream again. I was afraid of her, somehow I remember feeling intense fear from only her at this age.

As she continued to try and break the door down while yelling out every threat and curse known to man, my father was nervously tearing through the closet and medicine cabinet. He kept mumbling, "I'm so sorry Shae, I'm so sorry!" I thought at some point for sure she would break down the feeble door separating my father and I from our last breath. He finally finds tweezers ,gauze, alcohol and bandages. Promising me he will take me away, get me away from her and still apologizing frantically

At some point, i realized all of the blood leaking from the bottoms of my feet.I wasn't afraid of that. I believe i was numb from the fear, seeing my father so disheveled and coated in ever dripping blood from his forehead ,arms torso,back,and shins.

He faces me. With shaking hands wipes tears from my face and says, "This is going to hurt, but i have to get the glass out of your feet, Okay? " I trusted him I also could see the scared shit-less look in his eyes as he grasped on to the first piece and started to pull back. We remained there, him on the bathroom floor removing glass and god knows what from his only child's 3 year old feet and I squirming with each sharp wisp of a tug, for an hour or so I believe. My mother had given up at some point, but that didnt mean anything once we opened the door.

Once my feet were sterilized and wrapped in bandages,my father placed his hands around my weak arms and demands i stay put, no matter what i hear. And if she makes in this room to run, no matter what pain I'm in, to run!!!

I thought I'd never see him again. Thankfully my evil mother had blacked out and passed out naked in the living room floor. After a few minutes my father returned to me with my small Dalmation doggy back pack and a military issued bag of his own. Once again scooping me up . I was exhausted. I faintly remember feeling safe, like it was okay to go to sleep. He buckled me up in my car seat,i heard the engine crank. he placed a pair of sun glasses over my weary eyes. I felt the wind,and smelt the ocean.I fell asleep.

What had happen was?