Mom,
all my life, you’ve used your hands to end any argument that you started. Im twenty two years old, you’re almost fifty. So why are we still back to the same place. why do you still think its acceptable to slap me across the face when i say something you dont like, or when i defend myself. You ask me why i dont trust you. you ask me why i wont let you see your grandchild. this is why. Because i lost track of the age i was when you starting using my face as your punching bag, and i wont let anything happen to my daughter. Unlike you.