"Amber clean your room!" My mom screamed from the living room down stairs.
  I was cleaning my room. I had been cleaning my room for the last hour. I found it hard to stay on task. Hard to figure out what to pick up next or where to put it. I didn't respond because I knew if I yelled that I was back I would get in trouble. My mom walks in the room, ashes her cigarette on the floor, and looks around my room. Just by looking at her eyes I could tell I was in trouble. It was this look I could see from a mile away; furled eyebrows, stiff lips as if to have no expression, and her breath. Her breath changed when she was mad; harder, faster, and deeper. It almost seemed as if she was trying to calm herself but if that was the case it never worked.
  "You haven't touched anything? What have you been doing in here it's a mess! It's that damn TV isn't it?" My mother said to me.
  "I've been trying to clean but I don't know where to put things. I've put my books and blocks away I know where they go. But the toy bins are full. I've also put all of my dirty clothes in the laundry. Can u help me?" I pleaded trying to hold back tears because I knew I was in for it, especially because I was sitting on the bed when she walked in. Not because I was stalling, but because I was taking a break to try to figure out what to do. My whole body felt warmer, and almost like I was vibrating.
  "You want me. To help you? You've been in here for 4 hours now. You're 7 years old now start acting like it! You've had time to have this room cleaned 5 times over!" She yelled as she proceeded to grab my arm.
  "It hasn't been 4 hours I got home from school at 3 and it's 5 now." I said. She pulled me from the bed where I was sitting, up to my feet. "Ow!" I screamed as the tears started to roll. "That didn't hurt! I'll give u something to cry about!" She yelled still gripping my arm. She pulled me closer to her. I tried to get away I didn't wanna be spanked but every time I tried to yank away she would hold on tighter. Finally she would be able to get me in a hold where she would be able to hit my butt. "Now clean your room!" She said and proceeded to shove me to the floor, let go of my arm and walk away. I lied there on the floor trying to not cry to loud so my mom wouldn't hear me. The words 'that didn't hurt' kept going through my head. It did hurt. It hurt a lot. I looked at my arm and saw the red and somewhat blue ring around my arm. How could she think that doesn't hurt? It made no sense. Now I was mad. My mom always told me not to lie and now she was doing it. I got up off the floor. And went to my moms room to talk to her. I walked in as she was lighting another cigarette.        
  "Amber I don't want to see your fucking face right now now go clean your room!" She yelled.
  "My arm hurts mom! You hurt me! Why would you do that? I need help cleaning my room I told you that. You don't have to pick anything up even just tell me where things should go I need help!" I yelled back. This was the first time I remember ever really standing up to my mom. I knew I didn't deserve to be hurt for not cleaning my room. Godpapa never hurt me when I was bad. So why did mom.
  "I didn't hurt you I barely touched you and your 7 you can clean your own damn room!" She yelled back.
  "NO I CANT!" I yelled back. Now I was mad. She kept saying it didn't hurt but it really did.
  "AMBER!!!" She screamed more mad then I had ever seen her get. She stood up, put her cigarette in the ashtray, and launched towards me. I ran to go downstairs. I didn't know where I was running but anywhere seemed better than around her. Maybe if a ran long enough she'd give up. As my foot hit the first step I felt something hit my back. It pushed me forward but my hand was on the railing. I held on as tight as I could but when the force of my body hit the wall my hand let go. So there I was in a sitting position looking at the top of the stairs. Falling. As I fell I saw my mom. Scrambling after me down the stairs. I was tumbling. It hurt so bad I thought I broke something. But when I hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs and heard her coming after me I knew I couldn't just sit there. I got up as fast as I could and went for the front door. The lock would always stick so as I stood there trying to undo the lock I realized it was no use. I dropped to the floor. I felt my mom grab my arm. Same arm same spot as the last time. I thought it hurt before but it was way worse this time because it was already bruised. She stood me up, whooped me, and slammed me into the corner. I remember my head hitting the wall and shouting in pain.
  "Now stand there until you're ready to clean your room!" She yelled. I stood there for I don't know how long but it was long enough for her to make a salmon dinner and have it ready on the table. She told me I could come from the corner to the table to eat. I walked over and sat down head looking straight at the floor.
  "Amber we need to talk. What is going on with you lately your behavior has been unacceptable." She says as if nothing had happened.
  "What did I do?" I said in a soft voice.
  "Come on now Amber you know what you did don't give me that load of crap." She says raising her voice slightly.
  "I was cleaning my room. You said I was going to slow, so you spammed me. Then I told u I needed help and u hurt me. Then you kicked me down the stairs." I said. I knew she would probably be mad at this but those were the only issues I thought needed to be addressed.
  "I DID NOT KICK YOU DOWN THE STAIRS YOU FELL! And I barely tapped your butt." She yelled back food flying out of her mouth.
  "THEN LOOK!" And I pulled my shirt sleeve up to show her the mark that she left.
  "Oh I'm such a bad mother? Fine I'm calling child protective services and having them take you I'm not doing this anymore." She said calmly. As if she had been thinking about it already.
  "NO!!!" I screamed. "Please no mom I'm sorry." I cried as I was the one now chasing her. She marched up the stairs to get her phone as I clinged to her arm. She began to dial totally ignoring me screaming at her to not.
  "Hello? Ya. Apparently I hurt my daughter and I'm not a good mother I'd like you to come take my daughter please. Yep. Ya I just kicked her down the stairs. She wasn't cleaning her room. Ok sounds good." She exclaimed and then hung up. "They're gonna pick u up tomorrow. Go pack your stuff."
  "No mom please no! I wanna stay!" I begged. "I'll go clean my room right now. I'll try my hardest please." I continued.
  "If you can get your room cleaned tonight you can stay but you better start listening." She said lighting another cigarette.
  I would eventually come to find out she never called and that's not really how it works. I was 7 I didn't know. My mom was single for my whole life. It was just her and me. I had my godfather too and he was the only father figure I had. My mom said my dad didn't want me. She said she tried to bring me to see him when I was a baby but he was in jail. I spent most of my summers at my grandmas house. She wasn't my biological grandma she was my godfathers mother. My godfather lives with his mother because she needed help around the house because of her age. She was already in her late 70's when I was born. I loved spending time at my grandmas house. I didn't have many toys there but I didn't care. I felt safe, didn't have to worry about getting hit, and there was a huge yard. I was outside all of the time. My godfather had an old riding lawnmower that he took the blades off of so I could ride it around safely. Grandmas house was my safe place.