My mother raised her hand at my 6-year-old son over a red toy car, and everyone at the table pretended not to see the red mark on his lip. I didnβt scream. I just carried him to the clinic in silence. They thought I was weak because I had swallowed everything they did to me for years. But they forgot one thing: they could hurt me, and I would stay quietβ¦ but the moment they touched my child, they had already lost everything waiting for them at homeβ¦β¦.