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February 1993

Ground Zero

When I woke up from the haze of alcoholism, life was a mystery. I had been drinking since I was ten years old; the product of a childhood of violence. My father was an abusive alcoholic who beat my mother every night. I remember cowering in my bedroom, listening to the screams of my mother and listening to my father's tirade of abuse. Often, I felt I should kill him and everything would be better.

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