The turmoil that marked the next few years was indescribable; my mother had utterly wrapped her life around this guy and all of the sudden the easy rhythm we had established in our home was gone for good. Meals were eaten at different times, and there was also foreign food being offered at his request, things I had never heard of, or seen, and never did grow to like.
The biggest change was in my mother: if he was around, she was happy, and if he wasn't...well, she was devastated. There were many days that she would go lock herself in her bedroom and not come out at all. I was left to fend for myself.
Then the Terrorist would reappear and she would paint a smile on her face and go over-the-top in pretending that all was right with the world.
But I knew then that something was very, very off.