I live in constant fear.

Every day of my life, I fear he will come back like he said he would. 

I fear my life will come to an end at the hands of the person I thought loved me the most, the person who is supposed to love me the most. 

No, I’m not talking about my significant other. I’m talking about somebody much more significant.  I’m talking about my dad.

My parents divorced when I was 7 years old. As hard as it is for most kids, it was especially hard for me. I never knew what was happening behind the closed doors of my parents’ room. 

I felt so empty, and nobody knew what I was going through. My life went downhill. I wasn’t the perfect kid like I thought before. I had a broken family now. I hated my mom and dad for breaking our perfect family up. I just wanted to run away, but I couldn’t.

This is just the beginning. What happened behind those doors? Something no kid should see, of course. Something you would never expect at such a young age. Something that you haven’t even heard of. That something was abuse. 

Even at such a young age, I understood the concept. I understood the marks that my mom had on her weren’t just from her falling like she said. They were from my dad physically hurting her. 

After my parents divorced, the abuse didn’t stop. 

One night, my mom and I were sleeping and heard a knock at the door. Then we heard a huge bang on the floor. The door had been kicked in. 

I watched my dad continuously hit and kick my mom and pull her around by her hair. I felt so helpless. All I could do was scream for help and yell at him to stop. 

He told me everything was going to be okay. I could see the anger in his dark, brown eyes. It is a look I will never forget. I could see that he was hurting, but that was no excuse. 

As my dad heard the sirens of the police cars coming to help us, he ran away.

“This isn’t over,” he said as he left. “And I will be back.”

That night not only changed my life forever but also changed my mom’s. We lived in fear every day that he would never be found. That he would come back to finish his “business.” 

He was eventually taken to prison and all of our fears started to dissipate. After he was released, all of our fears rushed back. 

This changed me in bad ways. 

Every night before I went to bed I had to look out our front window a thousand times before I could sleep. Every time I heard a noise I had to wake my mom up to look. So much pain, fear and anxiety had built up in me. 

It may have brought me suffering, but it also brought my mom and me closer. That’s the best thing to ever happen to me.

Today, if I could go back, I wouldn’t change what happened. If it hadn’t happened, my mom and I wouldn’t be where we are. But I would change how it happened. I would change how long my mom put herself through pain just to make me happy. 

She made me feel so important every day they were together even though she was hurting inside. She is the most selfless, brave, strong and giving mom a girl could ask for. There are more words I could use to describe her, but my list would go on forever. 

She has been through something that no woman should go through. She was put in a position of trying to keep me happy and keeping herself sane. And for all of this she is my best friend and hero all in one. I will always be “Mommy’s little girl.” 

I love you more, Mom, no matter what!