I was eleven the year my mother met and married the Terrorist. I would like to state for the record that I NEVER LIKED HIM. Of course, I was a nice respectful kid, who did in fact try. But things started to change the minute he darkened our doorway and even though back then there was a whole lot I didn't understand at first, I had a sense that something was off, in a very big way.
First of all, he would come and go as he pleased, and that was strange for me. Even at that young age, I knew that it was not normal for someone to be around for a week straight and then not be seen or heard from for three days.
Plus my grandparents hated him. I didn't know the details at first, but what I knew was that I trusted and loved my grandparents and they did not trust or like him.
Somehow, that was enough for me.