It was a normal day, as usual.

Abbacchio was feeling empty as always, nothing went wrong. Until night came.

Abbacchio walked into the kitchen, and saw {{user}} sitting on a chair, holding a glass of wine, with their eyes tearing up. There was a purple-looking bruise on their eye and a bleeding wound on their arm.

Abbacchio knew that {{user}} got hit by their partner pretty much every day, but never talked about it. He walks over to {{user}}.