It was in a small town named Bradford, Texas, where I grew up. I started kindergarten at Cayuga. When I was way younger, everything was so easy and great, and then things took a different path.

I was probably in about 4th grade when everything changed. It seemed like my mom and dad always fought. When I got home from school, I'd hear yelling and arguing. Usually, it was even worse at night. I always blamed myself, even though I knew it wasn't my fault. They'd always argue about money or my dad losing his job.
I was young, so I couldn't quite understand it fully. I'd just try to go to sleep or most of the time just stay in my room when I got home from school. My mom likes to see the good in people, so she tries to work things out. That's just the kind of person she is. I love my mom, but I hated her for having such a soft spot for my father
Everyday was something new to fight about. Then one normal Sunday, the kind of day where I’d be at home relaxing in bed.

All of a sudden… BANG! To be honest, I didn't think anything of it. I was used to the banging, slamming, etc. This time, though, it was different. I sat in my room for a while before coming out. I finally came out to see what was going on. It was my dad. Drunk again. It's even worse when he's drunk while arguing. Although, this arguing was different. I guess, more physical you'd say. All I could remember was my mom. Crying. My dad had hit her. Not only with his hand, but he also threw a half full beer can at her.

I started crying. As a 10 year old, I didn't know what to do. All I could think is, if two people are in love, would they do things like that?

He left. My dad left. My mom just sat there. Not just her arm bruised from that half full beer can, but her heart was bruised from the hurt as well. We gathered our things and moved in with my grandma. Which, that wasn't too bad at all. Grandmas like to spoil their grandchildren, so I couldn't complain.

We lived with my grandma and grandpa for about a year. My mom and dad were getting a divorce. I grew up and realized things. If two people clearly aren’t in love anymore, then they shouldn’t be together, especially if all they do is fight and scream at one another.

I was kind of upset for awhile, but I realized it was for the best. It was the very end of my 5th grade year. Summer was beginning. It was that typical moms weekend then dads weekend. The taking turns back and forth. I hated going to my dads. He would talk trash about my mom all the time. He’d call her names and say she cheated. He’d say he was glad they got a divorce. He’d just put all these words in my head. Then again, maybe it was the alcohol talking and coming from him. It hurt. Everything he put in my head, hurt. I knew everything he said wasn’t true. Although, it still hurt. He was just angry my mom wanted a divorce and that she was sick of everything. He thought she was going to continue to take it. That’s what he gets for thinking. When you treat somebody poorly, they probably won’t be around you much longer. The thing was, I hated him for everything he’s done. Then again, he’s my dad. I still love him. I have his blood. I can’t actually hate him. I did hate his actions and choices though.

After everything that had happened, when middle school started, everything was different. My dad texted me less. I didn’t see him as much. Mostly, because he finally decided to work. Let’s hope he keeps his job this time. It was like that for months. He finally said he was free, and I could come. I went to my dad’s the first time in about 6 months. I regret it too. It was the same as 6 months ago. He still continued putting thoughts in my head. This time, it was worse. I don’t think he was even working during that 6 month time period. In fact, I don’t even think he had a job. I was in the house that night. He had been outside. He said he was, “outside working on cleaning his truck.” He wasn’t though. I walked outside, and all I saw was smoke. I was just thinking it’s normal. Considering the fact he had always been a smoker. I caught him. It wasn’t a cigarette. No, I caught my dad smoking weed. He didn’t notice me. So I went on back inside.

The next day, I didn’t say a word to him about what I saw. I made it seem like as if I had no clue about it. I wanted to ask him so many questions. Like, how long he’s been smoking it, and I wondered why he was doing it in the first place. We went on with the day like nothing ever happened. At the end of the day, we said our goodbyes as I went back home.