"Yes," He answers blandly. "I watched a mother die and for a moment, I thought I was going to watch her daughter die too. My dad hit me the night I screamed at him for it. That he ruined our friendship; I screamed I would tell everyone and he hit me so hard that night. I remember tasting blood," With his free hand he touches his finger to his lips. "He hit me harder the next day. Then he fractured my rib by pushing me into the dining room table. He would force me to shift and he'd clamp down on my neck till I couldn't breathe. The worst part was when my mom saw him hit me and she did nothing." He spits harshly, "She let him hit me and when I objected, he shoved me. Right down the stairs and beat me till I begged him to stop. I was twelve, Ronnie. I was scared."