"What's going on in here?" Our mother asked, catching us still asleep the following morning.

Beth never moved or heard our mother's question, but my eyes flew open the second she started to speak.

"Brad called last night drunk and cussing her out, calling her a whore and all other kinds of names. I was trying to comfort her, and I guess we fell asleep," I replied just above a whisper, letting Beth continue to sleep.

Unlike my father, my mother could sleep through a tornado hitting our house. She never heard the phone ringing or Dad bitching at Beth for people calling so late.

"Oh, dang, I must have...