The screaming was endless and brutal. The Hand-Falls, I felt them, but not as much as Anne, my Mom, as she suffered the Hand and the Fist. And Mom cried, not only when my father, Popeye (a nickname he acquired when he was a boxer in high school), hit her or was in a rage. I had been gestating for about 3 months when I first noticed the YellingCryingChaos waiting for me.
A month to go before..., well, I had no intention of coming out.