I became accustomed to screams and bruises. I got used to the crazed look in my father's eyes and the way his hands would shake, causing his cigarette to fall to the dirt ridden floor. I fell in love with the way he would smile as he reached for the bottle. I didn't understand. I cowered in my room at night as I heard the splitting sounds of bats, shovels, and irons hitting various surfaces and body parts. I listened to Alanis Morisette to drown out the grunts and moans that arrived when the fights ended, and they 'loved' each other again.