After the knife incident, Dad spent less and less time at home and more time

at work. I often shuddered in fear as I sat in the garage, hoping that for some
reason he wouldn't leave. When I was home, Mom only did half the things for me
that she did when he wasn't around.

When Dad was home, it became his habit to help me with the dinner dishes.
While we worked, we talked in low voices so that neither Mom nor the other
children could hear us.

She cleaned the dinner table herself, putting the food in the garbage disposal.

When I filled the metal tray with ice cubes in the refrigerator, I would tilt the
corner of the tray toward my mouth. Praying the pipe didn't vibrate and alert Mom,
I carefully sucked on the cold metal until my stomach was so full I thought it was
going to burst.

I worked on my assignments at a snail's pace. It seemed to take me minutes

to understand each sentence my mother yelled at me. As I slowly raised my head
to look at Mom, I realized that this was a game for her, a game she enjoyed very
much.

"Oh poor baby," Mom cooed sarcastically. He then asked me how I was
feeling and laughed when I asked for food. At the end of the sixth day, and those
that followed, I hoped with all my heart that the Mother would give me something
to eat, anything.

One night, towards the end of her "game", after I finished my chores, Mom
threw a plate of food at me. "Two minutes!" Mother barked.

You have two minutes to eat. I grabbed my fork in an instant, but just before
the food reached my mouth, Mom snatched the plate from me and dumped the
food in the garbage disposal.

To my surprise there were no buckets or bottles in the bathroom.

I sheepishly watched Mom as she turned on the cold water in the bathtub all
the way. I thought it was strange that he also forgot to turn on the hot water. As the
tub began to fill with cold water, Mom took off my clothes and told me to get in the
tub for sure. I got into the bathtub and lay down.

"Lower!" Mother screamed. put your face in

Water like that!" Then he leaned down, grabbed my neck with both hands,
and pushed my head under the water. Instinctively, I whipped and kicked,
desperately trying to force my head out of the water so I could breathe. Strong
Underwater I opened my eyes I could see bubbles escape from my mouth and
float to the surface as I tried to scream I tried to move my head from side to side
as I watched the bubbles get smaller and smaller I started to feel weak .

For a short time the attitude of the Mother towards the Father changed.

One Sunday Mom put everyone in the car and they went from store to store
looking for a record of German songs. I wanted to create a special mood for dad
when he got home.