Cindy Holbrook
by Cindy Holbrook
I grew up with a verbally and physically abusive father. He was like two different people. He was the strong loving protector, but he also had a dark evil side.
My family was pretty happy while dad was at work. My four siblings and I held our breath when he came home. Our nights depended on what type of mood he was in. Because I was the youngest and also my dad’s “Baby Girl,” my siblings would pay me to go sit on his lap to try to get him in a good mood.
