I think it was then that I first found my love for the early morning and the sunrise. She would always work in her large yellow hat, which oddly enough resembled the sun in so many ways to me. She was that to me, a Sun, a stable point in the vast universe of which I could revolve around. But regardless of how far out into the blackness I ended up, I always knew she would pull me back in to orbit. That was, until my Father became an alcoholic and started to beat her. It was small things at first, a raised voice here and there, a slammed fist on the table. A thrown magazine, newspaper or whatever he had in his hands at the time. Then it evolved, as did his inability to control his temper. Harsh words made way for harsh actions. My Mother did not want to antagonize him, but her silence seemed to fuel him more than anything and he would accuse her of not caring at all, even though I think she was trying to save me. I cannot say that I did not hate her at one point.
What do You think about Hellhound: Prince Of Fire?
