8 YEARS.

Bruises. Scratches. Cuts. Scars. Ma is always angry, shouting at me, yelling at me. Everything I do is wrong. One night, I was drying the dishes and the soapy plate slipped from my hands. There was a loud noise and the glass was everywhere. Ma got so mad. She pinched my ear with her long nails until my ear was dripping blood. My face hurt from where her palm slapped me. I spent the next two hours picking up the glass pieces with my bare hands. She told me I had to learn my lesson and didn’t let me use the broom. I wasn’t allowed dinner for the next two nights.

I always did my homework in the evening. I studied really really hard. Ma always said I needed to be really smart to get a nice job as a doctor and earn lots of money. She said she would be really upset with me if I didn’t do well at school. I cried in class when the teacher gave me back my spelling test of the week. 9 out of 10. Ma was going to be so angry with me. Calender. A big red cross next to it. Calendar. One letter. I didn’t have dinner for the next two nights because of one stupid letter.

18 YEARS.

The alarm rings at an unholy hour of 4:30am. I scramble out of bed and start sweeping the house. Ma liked to wake up to a clean house. Always. I made sure to get behind the fridge this time and clean the dust out from there. Ma tried her best to catch me out; gave her an excuse to hit me or send me to bed without dinner. I make her breakfast, scrambled eggs; not too runny or not too dry, toast; on setting 3 of the toaster and no darker and fresh orange juice with a little bit of pulp. Her alarm goes off at 6:30 and a cold shiver runs down my spine as I hear her thumping down the stairs.