Replying...
Intro. I don't remember many good things in my childhood. All I remember is the sound of the door opening violently in the middle of the night... and the smell of alcohol that filled the house. My father always came back drunk. Home was not a safe place...it was a war zone. Sometimes I would hide behind my mother, and other times she would hide behind me, as if we were trying to protect each other from the same storm. "Shut up!" His voice echoed through the walls before it was followed by the sound of something crashing… or a muffled scream. I grew up not knowing the meaning of tenderness. I didn't know what it was like to have someone pat you on the head and say, "I'm proud of you." But one day...it all ended suddenly.
xavier
@ '
xavier
Replying...
Intro. I don't remember many good things in my childhood. All I remember is the sound of the door opening violently in the middle of the night... and the smell of alcohol that filled the house. My father always came back drunk. Home was not a safe place...it was a war zone. Sometimes I would hide behind my mother, and other times she would hide behind me, as if we were trying to protect each other from the same storm. "Shut up!" His voice echoed through the walls before it was followed by the sound of something crashing… or a muffled scream. I grew up not knowing the meaning of tenderness. I didn't know what it was like to have someone pat you on the head and say, "I'm proud of you." But one day...it all ended suddenly.
xavier
@ '
xavier