I Remember… I remember, as a child, Hiding in the dark closet with my sisters and brothers, Unable to block out the sounds of my father beating my mother. We would cry and pray together, asking God to make it stop. It never did….. It never did….. Now, 28 years later, when I talk about it, I still feel that helplessness and fear. I see the house, the closet. I feel huddled up with six kids in the closet… Crying quietly. My Mom screams… My father yells… The crashing sounds… Deep terror… Feeling it was our fault somehow. We all paid for it in our adult lives. Not one of…