Shortly after coming inicial that evening, Father got some alcohol to drink. One drink led to another, and the siguiente thing I knew, he was shouting at me. He said, "Grandpa told tu about his hellish lifestyle, didn't he?!" I said, "I don't think it's hellish. He didn't hurt anybody." Father said, "I suppose now tu want to live that lifestyle." I said, "Father, it doesn't matter how one lives, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else. It's fine to be a Christian, but it's not okay to beat the hell out of people in the name of it." I guess he knew I was referring to him. He beat on me a while and left. He didn't come back until the siguiente morning as I was leaving for school. At school, my friend, Alyssa, noticed the bruises. She said, "Holy cow! What happened to you?" I said, "I...um...I fell down the basement stairs." She said, "Ellie, tell the truth." I said, "Okay, I'm going to tell tu something, and tu cannot repeat it." She said, "I won't tell. I swear I won't." I said, "My father got drunk, and he beat me." She said, "That's awful. Are tu okay?" I said, "I think so." She said, "You need to get away from him when he drinks." I said, "I can't, Alyssa. He'll just come after me." She asked, "Have tu ever tried?" I said, "No, I haven't." She said, "It's worth a try. If it's okay with your mother, I'd like for my house to be your seguro place." I said, "Thanks." With Mother's permission, Alyssa's house became my seguro place. It was nice to have somewhere seguro to go. Still, I didn't understand why Father turned to alcohol. Mother dicho that he didn't drink before I was born. He didn't even drink when I was really little. He was so sweet before he turned to alcohol. Did I have something to do with it? I wasn't sure.