My mom pulls me by my arms, dragging my hysterical body to the bathroom. Shoving my head under the faucet, I watch the blood mix with the water in the sink.

She pulls my head from the sink and, roughly, wraps a towel around my damp hair. For the rest of the evening, mom is a bit calmer, but still obviously mad.

My mom had gotten my grades early that day. A couple of A’s and 3 B’s – unacceptable! At the end of the verbal torture, I am sent to my room.

I sit on my bed, crying. My father comes in quietly, and sits beside me. He wraps his huge arm around me.

With a low voice, he merely says, “You have to set an example for your sister and brother.“

Then he leaves.