I dreaded going home. My home was like a sunless sea. The fear had taken over me. Every day it seemed to get worse.

I got home to find my mother on the floor. She was as weak as a bird. I ran to her as fast as I could. Then came out the Monster — the reason why I hated coming home: my father, my enemy, my worst nightmare.

My father is the cruelest person alive. There was never a day he didn’t yell at my mother or sometimes even hit her. No one could stop him. He was the man of the house — the one in charge, the one who always seemed to ruin my days. All my mother said was “Yes” or “Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

If only I could stop the Macho.