I was the fragile one out of the family. I held my heart on my sleeve and I cared for everyone in my family. My mum, my father and my sister. I always kept it hidden until I got older and my father found out about it. He was enranged, even disgusted by it. He told me a man, "does not do such of things". A man, "is a warrior". Someone who provides for his family. Though, this just wasn't me. I would talk about my feelings and they detested what  would come from my very own mouth. 

I remember vividly when were down in the shack below the concrete. My father said to me, "do not speak of such things". "This conversation never happened son." "You will be deleted, you will be erased my child." If I have too, my father paused ... "I will beat it out of you" "Do not disobey me. 

"We already have enough problems with the Yorouzya as is." 

"Keep quiet" My father yelled in a angry voice. 

"Don't do anything to dishonor this family or your out!" 

"Do you understand?!" My father told me as a command and in a intimidating voice. 

You heard his voice shaking from the anger wihtin his bones. 

It was dishonarble for everyone in my family. Soon, the word got out and everyone in the village knew about it and I was told I could not stay there any longer. They said if I returned I would be beheaded.