Typical Home Sweet Home

Mom began seeing Fernando when I was sixteen. I do not believe Fernando ever patched, but he and his family were closely affiliated to the club who pretty much ran the San Francisco Bay area. One of the biggest problems with Mom hooking up with Fernando was he was already living with Teresa. It did not take long before Teresa discovered her ole man was sleeping with my mother. She had confronted Fernando about it and demanded he end things with her.

He was no good to our family. My little brother was only in third grade with no father around. And here was this man my mother let into the house who was nothing but abusive to her son and an outright danger to our family. But I was not afraid of him. I was numb to it. By this time, I was planning my exodus from my mother's home. My time was spent in school, and working or partying with friends when I was not in school. Neither he or my mother had control over me.

Fernando is a collector of all types of weaponry. He cherished his arsenal of weapons. People knew who to call on when they needed something. Fernando taught me to shoot with an old black powder shotgun. It knocked me on my ass and bruised up my shoulder pretty bad. But overall, I had good aim.

So did Mom. But she learned to shoot as a kid growing up with a family of gun wielding mafia and sharpened her skills later in life with the club brothers. It is in our bloodline.

The fighting between mom, Fernando, and Teresa was becoming very intense. At one point, my boyfriend received a call from Teresa as she was looking for someone to rescue her. After a huge argument with Fernando, he cuffed Teresa to the coffee table by her ankles and left to come to our house for the weekend.

Teresa wanted my mom's blood.

Once Teresa was freed, not only did she bury Fernando's arsenal deep in the backyard, but she armed herself with a butcher knife and headed straight to our place. She would have been smarter to bring a gun, but Teresa was a true fighter. Regardless, she had no idea what she was up against.

Mom had warned me not to answer the front door. She wanted to be prepared in case Teresa showed up. Today, my mom was at work. Instead of listening to my mother, when I heard Teresa screaming outside our front door, I chained the door and opened it as far as the chain would allow. Teresa was screaming at me to let her in. She wanted to have some words with my mother. I kept telling her to leave us alone. Next thing I knew, she stuck her arm into the doorway, swinging this large butcher knife at me. I managed to grab her arm and the knife fell to the floor just after it clipped the back of my heel.

She left, and we were once again on high alert at home...

I worked as much as I possibly could in my junior year of high school. My job had me working the closing shift at Sizzler so I would get home real late each night. It was bad enough that I had to watch over my shoulder when I walked up to my front door, but I was not at all prepared for what would happen inside once I opened the door.

Walking into our townhouse, the hall light was on which was unusual. There was my mother at the top of the stairs, with her .38 aimed right at me.

Stop right there, bitch! She was drunk. I could tell by her slurring.

Mom, it's me!