‘And what do men do?’

‘They fight,’ I shout proudly.

‘That’s my boy,’ papa says with a big, happy smile.

I am so happy my heart feels as if it will burst in my chest.

‘I hope you ready to begin your training.’

‘Yes, papa,’

While papa puts on his gloves I hold my fists in front of my face and start dancing on the spot the way the boxers on TV do. Feeling powerful and happy-I’m a man now-I even throw a few jabs in the air with my right hand.

‘Are you ready?’ papa asks.

I stop moving my legs. ‘Yes.’

‘Hold your hands up over your head.’

Immediately I raise both hands.

‘The first lesson is learning how to take a punch like a man,’ he says and punches me in the ribs.

The blow hurts, but I am able to keep my hands up.

Papa looks me in the eye and nods with approval. I feel a flash of pride. I truly have become a man.

I take a deep breath and he punches me again. I breathe in sharply. That one was more painful.

‘Good,’ he encourages before hitting me again, harder still. Then, before I can recover properly he gets the fourth one in. It knocks the wind out of me and I double over, my hands automatically going around my belly to protect myself.

‘Hands up,’ he orders.

I stare up at him, shocked. I don’t recognize the man glaring at me angrily. This is not my papa.

‘Hands up,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m doing this is for your own good.’

Slowly I straighten my body and raise my hands up.

‘Let’s see if I have a son or a daughter,’ he says.

Then his arm shoots out. Wham. So hard hot tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I’m a man now.

‘If you can’t take this how are you going to be the greatest fighter in the world?’

Wham.

‘For God’s sake, stop sniveling like a little girl, I’m not even using half my strength.’

Wham.

He laughs. ‘You think it’s so easy to be the best fighter in the world, huh?’

Wham.

This time I fall to the ground, unable to breathe.

My father flies out of his chair. ‘Get up, you pathetic little sissy,’ he spits furiously.

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me up to my knees. I start crying. He brings his face so close to mine I see the little holes in his skin and the mad light in his shining eyes.

My mother appears at the doorway. Her face is white. ‘That’s enough now,’ she pleads. ‘Please Igor. That’s enough for today. He’s just a child.’

My father carries on staring at me, at the tears rolling down my stunned face, at the snot running from my nose, at my shivering body.

‘You disgust me,’ he says and lets go of my hair.

I fall back to the floor, but he is not finished.

‘Stand up,’ he orders.

‘Please Igor,’ my mother begs. Her voice is shaking with fear.

‘I said stand up,’ my father shouts.

I get on my hands and knees and stand unsteadily. My head feels dizzy, my knees are like jelly, and my stomach and ribs are so full of pain I am sure that I am dying.

‘Now fucking put your hands up.’

I am trying my best not to cry, but my entire body is shuddering with agony as I lift my hands up.

My father throws a punch. It is so vicious my body goes flying backwards, crashes into a chair, and both the chair and I slide along the floor and slam into the wall.