People Are Not Things

I stood between my father and my mother. He was seething, she was screaming and I was terrified.

My father towered over everyone. If, by chance, you happened to be taller than him, then he would still be louder than you. I never saw anyone stand up to him until I did it myself. At 14, he could still wipe me off the face of the earth with one flick of his pinkie. So when he clenched his fist to strike my mother, I don’t know where I got the audacity to say “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

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