The day my mom passed… everything changed. My father became grumpier, and started to drown his sorrows. Eventually, his grumpiness turned to anger, and he pointed it towards me. He was drunk most nights, but the times he wasn’t, he would lash out at me, and hit me across the face with his hands, or a bottle, a remote control you name it… he’s most likely hit me with it. One night, his Anger went too far. He broke a bottle of whiskey over my head. I became disoriented by the impact, but I could tell, I was bleeding. After what felt like hours, the dizziness faded, and I crawled through the front door, calling an ambulance. While hospitalized, I made up my mind, that I would pack my things and leave, for good. So I went back home a few weeks later, and did just that, no goodbye—nothing, just a slam on the front door. A few days later, he left a voicemail, an apology said too late, but I didn’t answer or call back, I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.