Marvin was laying in bed with his wife, Trina. He had his back facing her as always and there was a dreadful silence hovering over the two. Marvin had just lost his temper with her and had given her a horrific beating - right ijfroht of their eleven-year-old son, Jason.

He was very obviously moody. He was wearing his usual striped pajamas, Marvin planned on sleeping for about four or five hours before he had to be up and ready to go to work. Marvin's abusive behaviour had intensified lately, he had started hitting their son, it was mortifying. He almost felt bad when he hit the eleven-year-old, almost.

Marvin yawned, pulling the covers up to his torso, it was winter so it had been really cold lately. Jason was in the bedroom beside them, and the faint cries were honestly driving Marvin mad. He just wanted to go in there and give Jason a bad beating to shit him up. Pathetic, he thought. Just like his mother.

Marvin wasn't facing Trina in bed, he never did. He didn't touch her, he never kissed her or showed her a singular ounce, of genuine affection. He only kissed her or held her hand when they were out in public. That's all she was there for. Appearances. He just had to live this completely fabricated, heteronormative life, he didn't really have a choice.

So he took his feelings of anger and frustration with a kid he didn't want and a wife he had to marry on Trina and their eleven-year-old son, Jason.

As the faint whimpering sound from Jason's room became slightly longer, Marvin started to grow frustrated. She shifted in bed and paused when he felt Trina's palm on his shoulder.

"What do you want? Do you think I want to talk to you right after I beat you? God, you'd think I would've hit some sense into by now."

He groaned, not turning over in bed to face his wife. He sounded like he'd burst, and the sound of Jason's quiet sobs wasn't helping his mood.

"Will that kid shut up? I need to go sort the little bastard out. He's a fucking nuisance," Marvin looked over at Trina. "Just like his mother."