• She looks at me, this time with even more anger in her eyes. I step back, bracing myself for the pain she’ll inflict on me. In my mind I go over the reasons why she does this. I’m bad, I’m no good, I’m not lovable, and she doesn’t want me. I’m just a stupid girl, and I deserve what I get. Deep down, I reason with myself that those aren’t the real reasons. I back up as she comes closer, and I think back to when it all was different.
    I was only five years old, the innocence of childhood still wrapped itself around me. At the time, I adored my mother, she was kind and gentle. She flowed and dressed like an angel. Her hair was soft and shiny; I loved to play with it as I sat in her lap. She smelled of sweet, blooming flowers, and her smile radiated across any room. Her loving arms would wrap around me as she sang me to sleep. I loved her so much, I felt lucky to have her.
    Daddy would come home late at night, when I was already in bed. He would come into my room and kiss my forehead, and whisper, “Good night, my angel,” In my ear. Daddy loved mother with all his heart, and I was happy to have a home like this. My life was great. But before I knew it, it all turned upside down.
    At school that day I made a picture for Mommy and Daddy. It was a family portrait of the three of us. Daddy was next to Mommy and I was in the middle. I was so excited to show Mommy when I got home. I was jumping in my seat as I waited for school to be over. Finally it was time to go home and I was smiling from ear to ear. Our teacher took us outside to wait for our parents.
    I waited.
    And waited.
    I was the last one left from my class, and my Mommy still hadn’t come to get me. I was very scared. My teacher took me to the office and called my house. My Mommy answered. I could hear through the phone, and she was crying. My teacher then told me that she will take me home, that my Mommy was busy. On the car ride my teacher kept glancing at me through the mirror. I knew something was wrong. When we arrived at my house there were a lot of cars on the street. My heart was beating fast; I didn’t know what was going on.
    When I went inside my house I saw my whole family, Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Susan, Uncle Berry and all my cousins. Mommy was sitting on the couch and Aunt Susan had her arms around her. I was so confused. I walked up to mommy and looked at her. Tears were running down her eyes. She looked at me and hugged me. She sent me to my room without any explanation. So I sat on my bed and dragged my drawing out of my backpack. I looked at it, and smiled. Maybe this would cheer Mommy up! So I carried my picture to the living room and showed mommy my masterpiece. She looked at it carefully, and then she just cried more. This time she made horrible noises. I thought she didn’t like it. She stood up and took my hand as she went into the kitchen. She picked up a magnet and placed my picture on the fridge. I was ecstatic. Mommy then got on her knees and took both my hands. She looked at me with those warm, aquamarine eyes. She then told me that daddy had to leave, that god decided that he needed him. I looked at her, and then at my drawing. I still wasn’t quite sure what she meant so I reached up, onto my drawing, and put a hand over daddy and then looked back at mommy. She nodded and pulled me into her arms. I then knew that Daddy wasn’t coming back.
    I come back from that memory. Mother was still edging her way towards me. She looks angry, she is pissed. In one hand she carries a bottle of vodka. Her hair is no longer shiny and soft. It’s tangled and sprawls all over her face. Her radiant smile no longer shines. Her aquamarine eyes glare at me coldly. This is the new person mother has turned into. She doesn’t look at me lovingly and she doesn’t hold me. I’m her prey, and she’s the predator. It all changed after daddy died. She became horrid and violent. Our family doesn’t speak to us and her friends no longer called. She isn’t a mommy to me anymore but I still love her.
    Finally she reaches me, and grabs my wrists. I try to pull away but I can’t. Something inside mother makes her strong; maybe it’s the will power to beat me. I’m like the pillow for her anger. She uses me to get it all out. I became her walking target. Nobody knows this secret between me and her. She starts to hit me, punches fly towards me. I can taste blood. Sweat and tears pour down her face. I look at her with pity. She hates me but I love her. I love her, maybe not as much as I did before but she’s my mother and I can’t control it. I let her hit me, I let her punch, kick and scream at me. We have our secret, and I have my own. She looks at me with pure disgrace, and I look back and whisper, “I love you, Mommy.”