Her husband used to get beaten by her male friends and even her own brothers...

My mother tried to stop him, but couldn’t. In the end, he pinned her down on the dirt floor and started beating her while cursing at her to get out and never come back. My little brother happened to be at our grandmother’s house that day. I was sick, but when I heard what was happening, I ran—ran to my mother, threw my arms around her, and for the first time, looked at my father with eyes full of hatred. I screamed at him, “You alcoholic! We're leaving—and you’ll never see us again!” Then I helped my mother put on her clothes. Her face was bruised and swollen. We held hands and walked together, crying the whole way—from Botanical Garden all the way to Khoroolol. Along the way, I saw how deeply broken, hurt, and disappointed my mother was. That was the moment when my father ceased to exist for me. After that, my mom, my brother, and I went to live with my grandmother and my uncle. I transferred to a school in Khoroolol, and my little brother started first grade there too.