His name is Charles Kovacs AKA Chuck. He was an achohaulic. Prensent day he is still an alchohaulic, cocaine addict ,dead beat and i am embarassed to say he is my father. He stands 6"ft tall. Blue eyes like mine, same oval face shape. The resemblance between him and I is uncanny.

My very first memory of my father? If i think back as far as my mind can take me, I must have been a Wee Girl of 2 or 3. Yet the events of that night still haunt me.I can see the expression on my mothers face, the fear in her eyes and the pain flowing with her tears.

I was laying on the carpet in the living room, watching "The little mermaid". It was dark outside of our aparetment building on the first floor. Mom was on the phone, Dad was out again. It wouldnt be long before he arrived home, That was usually when all hell would break loose. Sure enough like every other day he came home more intoxicated than ever. My memories are all still crystal clear. He walked down the hall way into the bathroom, did his buisness. Then came flying back into the hall way like a hurricane of anger. He put holes in the walls with his fists, slammed doors, even urinated on the hardwood floors. I sat there in terror as the "untameable beast" would confront my mother with such hostily and violence.

"Bitch, wheres my fucking supper" He would scream.

My mom would immediatly burst out in tears, because there was no dinner. She had been surviving off oxo cubes and water, while "Charles" drank all the money away. She knew what was coming after her. He hit her so violently she dropped to the floor. I immediatly took cover under an old dresser in the front room. I could hear her scream and beg him to stop beating her but he never would. I remember she said...

"No chuck, dont do this infront of Marie!"

He didnt care. He would find any reason he could to unleash his anger on us. The worst part was when he dragged my mother down the hall way by her feet. I remember gazing upon my mama's bloody face and the trail of blood left by it and her hands. She had been beaten with a broken beer bottle. We locked eyes. I was terrified and helpless, as i crounched under the worn in old dresser. Things quited down. Not for long, my mother ran to the kitchen and got on the phone. Within what felt like an eternity of screaming,yelling,crying,fighting, the police arrived. The last thing i can remember was a female officer finding me under the dresser. She kneeled down to my level and asked "Sweetie are you okay? Dont worry daddys gonna be gona for a while". They dragged him out the front door. He fought the officers, they eventually hog tied him and took him away. My mama and i were at peace atlast, after treating her injuries. We knew it wouldnt last long. Until my mother decided to leave him a few months after more than a dozen incidents.

Those are my "Memeories of Charles". They're not pleasant. I dont think that they are the memories a normal child should have of there father figure, But that is the way it is and the way it has always been, and the way it shall remain...

                                                   THE END