Watching with Fear

There was not very many days that I can remember where things were what some would call "normal". But, at this time in my life, all that happened in that house was normal for I did not know any different. That's why people stay in abusive environments sometimes, they do not know anything else. I remember from the time I was a child all the way until I left home at the age of 18 years old, my mother and father fought. I can still see the kitchen drawer being opened....the knife being retrieved...my dad on his knees apologizing for things he had not done...my brother and I watching from a corner in another room. Why? Make it stop....This ritual was almost daily, and my fear overwhelming. It almost always would end with the same scenario of mother locking herself in her bathroom, and my dad pleading for her to open the door. How could he care? But, we all cared, and prayed for the day when things would be ok with mother. The few days where she would seem as though she cared for me, cared about my school, cared about my life, without a hitch. But, that was the problem. There was always a hitch...everything I shared with her would eventually be thrown in my face, twisted to make it all be something it was not. But still, I always waited for those moments...when I felt she cared.