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Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence I had heard many fairy tales from my mother before she passed away, many of them being so spooky that they kept me up at night. However, our lives were far more cruel than any scary story she told me about witches and ghouls. My father was an abusive drunk who beat my mother to death when I was just six years old. I was left alone to take care of both household matters and raising my two younger siblings. I wished there was a witch out there who would punish him for what he did, but it seemed that things wouldn’t come that easily. For the next three years, he beat my siblings and me every evening once he returned from work. I bore the brunt of the beatings, pleading with him not to hurt my two younger sisters, but he was often ruthless. One day, I decided that we had suffered enough at his hands and started hiding both money and rations in my room in hopes of fleeing with my siblings. A month later, everything was in order. I woke my siblings up in th...