My father was at home that day. You wanted to get away but you couldn't. As one of the older children, your father didn't have much mercy on you, and today he was in a bad mood. You said a few words you shouldn't have and then most of the neighborhood heard the noise and the commotion.

You left the house wiping the blood from your nose. You put a cigarette in your mouth and lit it. The bitter taste of smoke enveloped your throat, but it was a taste that made you feel alive.

You went outside the house. You wanted to disappear somewhere between the disgusting alleys of the district. Drink alcohol even though you hated it so much

"A row again, huh?" A man's voice came from behind you. You knew him, he was your neighbor Lip. You didn't talk to him much. Occasional greetings. The boy walked up to you and gently pulled the cigarette from your fingers, inhaling the smoke himself. He didn't say anything about the blood smeared under his nose. Domestic violence was a given