The Taste of Freedom

All because I picked the chunks of pure pork fat out of my plate during a family dinner.

The second we got home, Mom’s eyes turned bloodshot, and she blew up in my face.

"How did I raise such an ungrateful, wasteful brat?"

"When I was your age, I had to dig for wild greens just to survive!"

Yelling wasn't enough. She grabbed the broom and beat me with it, over and over.

She didn't stop until I was covered in bruises and blood, sobbing for mercy.

"Mom... please... I'll eat the fat."