“You better clean that piss up off the floor,” my father barked to my mother who was standing in the hallway. I tilted my head so I could watch them. “I will,” my mom responded, her thin frame shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. He gripped her chin so hard I had no doubt it would leave another mark. “You will, what?” She casted her gaze down, no longer daring to look at him. “I will, sir.”
