Growing up I never thought my family was dysfunctional. I look back and I feel so angry that my parents could do this to me and each other. I can remember the first time father and mother got into a major fight. I had gotten home from school and my father was in his bedroom and he called me in there. “Risa I’m going out I’ll be back tonight and I’ll bring you money” ,he said that as he set down a half pint of whiskey. I was annoyed that he thought him giving me money would make up for the fact that he was drunk all the time. He was about to go to ‘your place’ which was a small, cheap bar that was good enough to get my dad drunk off his ass. He looked at me and said “when mama gets in tell her I’ll be home tonight.” I frowned. Every time he went to the bar he would come back ready to argue ready to prove everything my mom says wrong. He walked out the door, and to the bar. It wasn’t but a few blocks away. How lucky are we to live near bar? As soon as he was out of sight my mom got dropped off by a co worker like usual. We didn’t have any money for a car or bug spray but we had money for cigarettes and whisky. I thought about that when my mom was getting out of the car. I glanced down and see a roach scurry across my toe. I flicked it away. When she walked in I told her the same thing she expected to hear every Friday night. I looked at her and said “he’ll be back.” Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t come home he just proves that even showing natural affection is next to impossible. I thought, ‘Is the whole world like this’? My mom and I never were close. Sometimes I thought I hated her, but it’s mostly the fact we can’t stand being in the same room without arguing. She had started to unwind on the ripped coach. I went to my room and did the mindless stuff thirteen year olds do such as write or play video games. Hours later I had heard the front door slam shut or maybe it was slammed open but it doesn’t make no never mind. As if it was planned they both started screaming at each other. I couldn’t understand what all they said but every once in a while I could pick out one statement insults such as “you’re an alcoholic and I swear this time we’re leaving” and “you’re the screwed up mother, she don’t love you.” Normally I would have thrown on some papa roach and sang out loud, but I wanted to paint my nails and the nail polish remover was in the living room. I opened the plain white door in my undecorated room and when I did, everything went silent. In front of the door in our small hallway I saw one quick motion; my dad ramming his head into my mother’s face. The motion was unexpected as was the blood streaming down my mother’s face. I didn’t know so much blood could pour out of a nose. I looked down and saw an instantly small puddle of blood on the cheap tile. Dumbfounded I looked at my mom, who was wearing more blood then skin, and I saw her cheek swell on the left side, along with a swelling eye. She began crying and ran outside in panic. I looked at my dad and in a hateful voice said “what the hell is wrong with you?” My dad’s face was stricken and he said “Marisa don’t let her send me to jail, Marisa don’t you dare let her”! I slumped back into my room and shut the door. I leaned against it and slid down. I could hear his boots as he paced back and forth saying “tell them it was an accident, tell them it wasn’t me please Marisa if you love me” Tears rolled down my burning face. I thought to myself that if the world was like this completely then I didn’t want to be in it.He spoke softer “I’m your father Marisa, please?” I cleared my throat and said “she’s my mother” and I heard a string of bad words come from his mouth along with sirens.