Antonio
The nightmares were back. The one where I was at the back seat of the cranky Old SUV while my father drove us to the brink of the bridge, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Ungrateful little b***h! How many times do I need to remind you, the police cannot help you.”
This was my punishment for reporting him to the local station, for beating my mom to a pulp. At the teenage age of fifteen, I would watch my father come home, heavily drunk. He didn't care how we lived, about our well being. If we've eaten or if I was down with the flu. All he cared about was exerting feeble masculinity on my weak mother.
“I'm… I'm sorry Dad. It won't happen again.” I cried my lungs out, afraid for my life.
I thought I was doing the right thing, reporting him to the authorities. I was wrong. The m
