I grew up in a really abusive household, but four moments always stick out in my mind. Once, my dad was just in a mood. I was trying my best to be quiet and out of sight but he just snapped and started smashing things. He was standing still for a moment and I peeked out to see if he was done and, without moving the rest of his body, his right leg just shot out to the side and booted the stereo across the living room. It exploded into the wall and took a plant with it. He turned to me, grabbed my hand, and told me we were going out. By the time we got to the end of the street, he was fine. Another time, the dog was barking. She had to pee and she couldn't get outside. He screamed and stormed down the hall, I poked my head out of my room and sad him kick the doggie down the stairs. I heard her hit the wall and cry. I hid under my bed and I still get really upset if I hear dogs wimper. The next weekend I was at his house, the dog was gone and I never questioned it. The third time he was tickling me. I have a weak heart, lung issues, and am prone to panic attacks so I really hate being tickled. I started having a panic attack because I felt like I couldn't breathe and I began screaming. Dad snapped and started screaming at me to shut the fuck up, I thought I was dying so I couldn't stop myself from screaming, and he started to panic as I was a loud little seven year old. He put a pillow over my face and a throw blanket over me. He put his entire body weight into hold his hands over my mouth. I continued to panic for about a minute. I really couldn't breathe at this point but I felt warm and floaty. My entire body felt like the static that my TV made when my Vhs tapes ended. Someone knocked on the door and he got off me to answer it. When he left, I ran to my room. The last of the four was at my sixth birthday. He had taken me inside (the party was outside) to eat. He served me an adult sized portion of mac n cheese. I'm lactose intolerant but I ate as much as I could. There was 2/3s left and he started screaming at me for being such an ungrateful bitch and how disgusting I was being and I started crying and forcing the rest of the food into my body. He took it away and threw (literally bowl and all) it into the trash and yelled at me for making a scene at my birthday. And told me that I would be punished if the guests outside could tell that I had been crying. I have this weird anxiety about not finishing everything on my plate now. He was exceptionally mentally unstable and almost always on drugs. Pretty much every weekend had at least one snap like this.