 I was six when Dad died, but life didn't slow down for me. Mom moved us to the Wisconsin Dells to be near her new man who farmed and was a fellow alcoholic. For seven years, she lived with him, ditching him when a new man came into the picture. They married and we moved to Milwaukee, where their drinking was only topped by the domestic abuse that became a way of life. Now, as a 15-year-old, I did everything I could to avoid being home.