Love, an intense feeling of deep emotion. The idea of falling in love and being in love then marriage it all seems romantic and amazing. Every girl dreams of the white dress or the traditional wedding dress of their country. It depends on the girl, really.

My idea of love change the moment my parents started fighting. Not the kind of fighting they always did, it started to get louder and they started throwing. It started out with pillows then books, vases, plates soon it was anything they could get their hands on.

It all happened so fast, too fast. In a weeks time, they seemed to hate each other. In a month, they couldn't stand listening to each others' voice without yelling at each other to shut up. A month after that, they couldn't even look at each other. They both slept in different rooms. I was their messenger passing one message to the other. It was always quiet in those months. Almost too quiet. During that time,  I tried to convince myself that they were just having a huge argument. I tried to distract myself, but it's hard to ignore the elephant in the room. And one day after a long day at work...

They broke. They couldn't hold it in any longer. My parents started throwing shade, sneers and then I opened my mouth and said: ' Can't we have dinner like a normal family?'. My mother started to yell and blamed my father, my father mimicked her. They started yelling, screaming, screeching  at the top of their lungs. Cutlery, cups and plates were being flung at one another. I felt useless and invisible. I kept wailing at them to stop, but my parents didn't listen. They ignored me, next thing I knew was that my father swung his arms out and by accident he.. and he—he struck me.