Being hit with his dad’s belt was the worst physical pain he’d ever experienced, and like everything else, it seemed to be random. He never knew when an infraction might be severe enough to incite him to take off his belt and whip him across the back. One time, he was standing at the sink brushing his teeth, and his dad came tearing in, screaming about the mess he’d left in his room. The belt was already in his father’s hand, and it cut across his back with such force that it pushed him forward, making him gag on the toothbrush. The sting of the leather made him lose his breath. Inside, he
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I remember being on constant edge when my father was in the house. You never knew what would be asked of you, his moods, his rules. You had to follow them but you were often confused as to what they were.
