It shouldn't be like that when you're twelve : hearing your parents fight on the floor above you. Just ten minutes before , my mom was tucking me into bed, kissed me on the forehead with cracked lips and told me to sleep well. I asked her if she was okay and she dabbed at her eyes, even though nothing was there, and said, "Yeah, why...what's wrong?" I told her it was just something I could sense. She smiled a weak smile and told me everything was fine and I would be safe in bed. I smelled the bruises on her that I couldn't see as she kissed me once more on the cheek.

"Safe in bed," were the words I was mumbling when I heard my dad's open hand swipe across my mother's face. They were the words I was mumbling when I heard her body fall to the floor. And when I could hear her soft cry through the vent.

It shouldn't be like that : hearing your dad tell your mom that you were a mistake. That you made their lives harder and, even though he loved you, he wonders what it would be like if you weren't born.

I said a silent prayer and forgave him. It's what a Christian boy does. "If you hold grudges," my mom told me, "You'll end up like your father."

My mother cheated on my father when I was ten years old. She said it was because my father started drinking, but I don't remember him ever fondling a bottle until after she had admitted her wrong doing. I said a silent prayer and forgave her though.

"You're a slut!" my father said and I could hear my mom pleading with him to stop yelling, that I could most likely hear them. He seemed to ignore her because he kept yelling how she ruined his life. "Dirty slut!" I curled up into a tighter ball and whispered, "Safe in bed," until I had almost completely disappeared.

It shouldn't be like that on your thirteenth birthday: watching your dad being carried into the back of an ambulance because your mom finally did what she always thought she couldn't. She hugged me tightly and apologized more times than I could count. "I did it for us," she said. I said a silent prayer and forgave her.

I was at my Grandparents' house for the month leading up to my mother's trial. Every morning I would wake up and walk into the kitchen where they were eating, my Grandpa would put his paper down and smile - my Grandma would say hello and let me know breakfast was almost ready. No one ever talked about my parents.

I was lying in bed one night , not being able to sleep, and cried. My chest tightened up and I longed to be with my parents, hugging them and having them tell me they love me. It's all any kid wants. Everytime I would close my eyes though, I would hear my mom's screams and my dad's threats. "Safe in bed," I whispered.

It shouldn't be like that : watching your mom sit in chains behind an oak table and not looking back to say she loves you - I don't think she was allowed to though, so I forgive her for that. Her orange jumpsuit was nothing I ever pictured my mom in - from the back, her hair was all messed up and she sat hunched over like a defeated war vet.

When the judge was getting ready to read her sentence, my Grandma hugged me close and said, "Whatever happens, you'll be safe at our house." I believed her because I had nothing else to hold onto.

"Safe at our house," were the words I was mumbling when the judge told my mom she was going to serve a sentence from 20 year - Life for murdering her husband. They were the words I was mumbling when my mom finally looked back at me and said, "I love you with all my heart." And when she told me to be a good boy and grow up to be a strong man.

It shouldn't be like this : Sitting in a green chair my Grandpa had willed me when he passed away in the middle of my one bedroom apartment, drinking the Vodka straight from the bottle - just like I do every time it's my birthday.