“Ryan, get in here now!” roared Payton, Ryan’s mother.

The hairs on the back of Ryan’s neck stood up. He knew he was in for another beating. Walking up the stairs, he tried to think of a reason for why he was in trouble. By the time he reached the top landing, he couldn’t reach a conclusion.

“Do you know why I’m mad this time?” Payton questioned.

“Um, no,” Ryan stammered.

“Well, since you’re so clueless...” her voice trailed off. “It’s because your dishes were left in the sink, once again.”

“No they weren’t,” Ryan shot back.

“Oh really? Then whose were they?” Payton asked.

“Yours,” Ryan stated “They were from last night.”

“Don’t try blaming your faults on me,” Payton said sarcastically.

“I wasn’t,” said Ryan. “But those were yours!”

“That’s it,” Payton huffed.

Ryan knew he was in for it yet again. He tried to remember his previous punishment for leaving dishes in the sink. The problem was there were far too many punishments for him to remember. Thinking back, Ryan concluded that would soon receive a handful of bruises and possibly a black eye.

Ryan felt his mother’s harsh fist against his eye. He stumbled back, almost knocking over the painting on the wall. It was a good thing he didn’t; he would have gotten another punishment for that. After a harsh five minute beating, Payton decided she was done. She stood up, smoothed out her blouse, and started walking out the bedroom door.

“By the way,” she sing-songed. “You aren’t allowed to eat meals for the next week. That way, I won’t have to worry about you leaving your dishes in the sink.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ryan thought to himself.

It seemed like every day his punishments were becoming worse. Ryan sulked to his bedroom afraid at what tomorrow’s punishment would be.