I used to be a happy kid, who loved ice cream and playing at the park.  One night we got a call that my uncle had gotten kicked out of his apartment for being loud and violent and so my mom let him live in our garage. That day is what changed my childhood. He was a drug addict, very delusional, and a big 200 pound man. He would yell at a “guy” named Nick, but in reality it was just a wall. I remember constantly waking up in the middle of the night hearing yells and objects falling. I felt unsafe and disturbed until one night all the things I had nightmares about what he could do happened. He attacked my own mother, his only sister, over pizza. Yes, pizza. I remember charging at him with all my might and getting thrown across the living room like a stuffed animal. I was punched multiple times, but didn’t feel the pain due the adrenaline rush. I kept yelling hoping to have a neighbor hear and call 911. I tried pulling my mother away from the house, but she kept pulling back towards that crazy man. But why? Why choose her own deadbeat brother over her own innocent children. Till this day, my father does not know about the entire situation. The day finally had happened. My uncle passed away from diabetes. I stand here today as a child not scarred, but mentally stronger. I still hate him till this day, but I hope I later can find forgiveness in my heart for him. May he rest in peace.