"Mother? Are you alright in there?" I quivered at the thought of her being dead in the bathroom. A few seconds later, I hear the shower running. I turn the door knob slightly, hopefully unlocked but as it turned out, mother put a chair to block the entrance. " Mother, please open the door. It's me, Kenna", I sighed deeply. "Please go away darling, I'm fine like always. I'll be out when I'm ready to put on my mask", mother answered sweetly. By mask, we mean our smiles. In our neighborhood, we have a reputation for being the most cheerful family that never have troubles or drama inside the trio of our pride. The only time when we were really cheerful was in the past. Back then, daddy never gambled or hit mother and I when he was drunk. He always came home and hugged us instead of greeting mother with his backhand. He changed his ways because he took drugs to keep him awake and he slept with women behind mother's back. He kept popping those pills like they were candy, each day he was delusional and angry. Coming home to see what dissatisfies him and hitting mother because she's close and isn't faster than I am. I usually run and hide till father is asleep to creep out and help mother to her injuries. The last time I confronted him, he dislocated my shoulder and I haven't been able to go to the doctor to mend it and it has been two years since, but today I stood up beside my mother, only to get cuts from his beer bottle and bruises on my stomach from his forceful kicks, multiplying. After he was done, he went straight for my mother and mother ran, but tripped. Father grabbed her head and chunked her into the wall. Blood oozing from her head and father kicked and stomped on her vagina. This is how my life is.