I ducked as mother chucked the jug of milk at my head and it careered past me and into the hallway. Her rage outweighed any disgust she felt at my messy diaper as she assailed me, the slaps coming on my face, head, and shoulder as I retreated backwards toward the hallway that led to both of our bedrooms. I could have turned and run back into my bedroom, my normal reaction to when she got out of control. That would have put a stop to the beating but would also have left me in the room till morning to stew in a messy diaper with windows I couldn’t open.

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