My dad used to pound on me for now reason, other than him being drunk. My mom would whoop me with an old Army belt. So I pretty much grew up getting beat at least once a week. One time he hit me in the head so hard, I had a lump dang near the size of a baseball. Try explaining that when you are at school. Teachers thought nothing of you coming in bruised and everything else in the early 70`s. Once I hit 16, he tried his crap and picked up a crowbar. I looked him dead in in the eye and told him, you better make it count, because I am going to take it away from you and kill you with it. Never had another problem out of him after that. I was bigger and stronger and he knew I could kick hi ***. After that, I probably never said 10 words to him the rest of his life. And guess who was responsible for him when he died??? Me, only living family member. His body got donated to science, I wanted nothing to do with him or my mother!