I turned out that I have no respect for my parents.
My father was always physically abusive and from the ages of 9-17 I was repeatedly raped by him. My mother turned out to not be my mother but my aunt; my father had cheated on his wife with her sister - the result was me. I was never wanted or needed.
One time, I lost it with my mother. I do everything: I please my father, please the whole family, keep its secrets, keep house. I was frying crepes...and she said something and I lost it. I hit her with the frying pan; she sustained no real damages. Later on, I jumped out of the car (she ruined what little I have - my image - before people who I respected) and just started walking away. I knew if I was around her I couldn't control my anger. She followed me - I was expected for a party with my family. No excuses could be made for me; it was promised I would play my adaptation of a piece from Carmen on the piano. She couldn't lose face. She got out of the car - and I slapped her. Hard. I remember she sat down on the ground, holding her nose, and said, "I hate you." Everything else is hazy - when I lose my temper, I lose recollection of a lot surrounding what happened.
A couple of days ago - I was pushed to my limit, and then...the limit was broken. To make a long story short, I told my father how my "mother" ruined everything. How before she came everything was alright, he was different (it's true; when my 'mother' left my father for a bit, it was the most blissful time in my life...I took care of my father, he came home, we ate dinner, we played cards, we went biking, we read, we talked...we were a family!). He dared me to hit him: I did. Then, I just remember crying...for fear, for my lack of childhood, for never having a real family, for the unfairness of it all.