Mom and Dad Hate Each Other (✅)

Chapter Two

"Okay, class, does everybody have an envelope?" Mrs. Emily asks to which most of the kids in the class respond with a yes.

"Great, the assignment is a simple one. Whatever subject is on the paper inside is what you are asked to write four pages about," she says as she starts the timer and we all eagerly rip open our mystery subjects.

I open mine and look at the beautifully written subject matter that I was to bring to life.

Write about the earliest happy memory you have with your parents.

I stare blankly at the paper for a full ten minutes before details come rushing into my mind and I title my story, "My Dad And I Go Camping," before jotting down the story.

I still remember when the night before that day he announced at dinner that he and I would be camping for a week. It took me by surprise, mainly because at that time in my life, all my parents ever did was train and read, always talking about "preparing for when they come".

My dad had never expressed an interest in camping before and my mom, shockingly enough, seemed to be completely okay with the sudden event.

That morning (If you call 3:30am morning, my six year old self certainly did not) we were packed and in the middle of the woods by 5:30.

Say what you will, my Dad was definitely punctual and he still is.

He then explained to me how to set up the camp site, the different tools to use and how to use them, and which leaves were poison ivy. His instructions were short and to the point, as was the normal tone for my dad, but it was still fun to talk to him...until my stomach started to growl.

It wasn't until I went to look for a snack that I realize that Dad forgot to pack food!

I was about to bring it up before the sound of twigs breaking distracted me and suddenly, a huge bear was charging directly at us, making me scream at the top of my lungs.

Dad, however, stepped in front of me, and with a powerful roundhouse kick, jerked the bear's head to the side with a loud SNAP! that echoed throughout the woods.

I was amazed!

I had seen my father practicing his karate for hours every day, but I had never seen him use it until that moment.

My parents didn't start fighting until a few years later, so I was always awestruck when I got to see them in action.

I just stood there speechless until Dad broke the dead silence.

"I'm going to teach you how to do that," he said as he lifted the bear onto his broad shoulders.

"How...?! Wh-Why...?!" I managed to choke the words out.

"This is my meal for tonight. If you wish to eat then I recommend you quit wasting time and pay attention," he replied.

For the rest of that afternoon, I was shown how to pivot my hips, how to twist my legs to generate power, and what parts of the leg should hit where.

"Okay, now kick my stomach as hard as you can," he instructed, which I was hesitant to do at first out of fear of hurting my daddy.

I know it sounded dumb, since I had just seen him kill a bear with a single kick, but at six, I simply didn't think.

"Now!" he commanded firmly, so I did as I was told and threw a kick as hard as I could to his solar plexus.

I felt the impact and the jolt vibrate my small body, but Dad seemed to be completely unfazed by the attempt.

"It's just as I feared... You have your mother's strength," he said coldly, but with a hint of worry in his voice, too, as if he had been told I had some kind of terminal illness.

"I am afraid you are not built for the Kane family karate," he sighed and looked utterly disappointed.

"Well, why did you spend so much time trying to teach me it then?!" I exclaimed and crossed my arms over my chest with a pout.

"Because your mother's fancy dancing mantis kung fu may look good, but one day it's going to get her beaten to death, and when it does, you and I will need to be able to hide out in a place where they won't be able to find us."

The image of a group of people breaking into our home and swarming Mom flashed in my mind, the thought of her fighting them off until they overpowered her and left her body bloody and twitching on the floor made tears immediately flow down my cheeks.

"Enough tears, Chelsea," Dad said coldly, but Mom's battered body still haunted my thoughts, causing the tears to turn into sobs.

Dad sighed and put an arm around me, his warmth and surprising gentleness calming me.

"This is why we train Chelfish, to protect ourselves in case we need to, but sometimes if we get lucky, we get to save those we love, too."

Upon hearing the rarely used nickname and seeing that calm smile, I found myself smiling too.

"So Mommy won't die if we practice hard enough?" I asked, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"That depends," he replied, his stern look returning.

"On what...?"

Dad pointed to the body of the bear he killed, which he had placed under a bear warning sign that we hadn't notice before.

That's where we watched two cubs walk over to the body and began examining it, letting out pained cries and whimpers.

"How fast you can learn," Dad answered and turned me toward the cubs.