I fear the man who hits my mother when he is drunk. I am frightened by the man who touches me in my sleep, the man who knocks over objects in the house when my mom tries to leave. And she stays. She stays because she “loves him”. Or does she fear him just like me.

 I get nervous when men stare for too long. Do they want to hurt me like the man in my house does? I get chills knowing that this man takes pictures of my younger sister.

I’m scared the day will come when he hits my mother too hard. The day she doesn’t wake up after getting beat for the last time. I worry about the day when my sister and I are left alone with this man.

I pray that one day God will give us wings to fly away from this place we call home. But I’m afraid that he doesn’t hear my prayers over his yelling and moms crying. I fear that I am stuck in hell. Or maybe hell is home.