Most people like it when the work day ends not me. I hated going home. I was afraid of how I would be greeted when I got in from work.

If I was lucky all he would do is yell at me for about an hour and then go out. If I was not so lucky he would stay home and yell, scream, hit me and terrorize me.

On the nights that he would yell for what seemed hours I would sit quietly on the corner of the couch with my knees bent and my arms around my legs and my head resting on my knees.

Some nights he would terrorize me by opening the window of the apartment we lived in (the windows were 12 feet by 12 feet and when opened you could fit your entire body) and sit on the ledge and hang out and threaten to jump.

One night he came in and suddenly I heard a shot like the way a gun sounds when it goes off. Later that night he came over to me and put that thing in my hand and told me to pull the metal back. I ran out of the apartment. I later found out it was a zip gun.

Home is supposed to be a safe haven, mine was not.