Bloberta was so done with her husband, she thought that he deserved nothing, that he was just a horrible, self-destructive alcoholic who ruined everything and everyone around him. And she blamed him for alot.

She blamed him for ruining her life, for not being a "real man" or a "good father", for not being a good enough husband to her, absolutely everything.

Even stuff that he had no control over; Bloberta made sure to blend him for it. She enjoyed seeing him miserable. She enjoyed seeing her husband depressed, dependant on her.

But her emotionally abusive tendencies had seeped out into physical abusive. Bloberta had began mirroring the abuse her mother out her father through all her life.

She vividly remembered how on-edge her father was all the time, Bloberta remembered watching her mother best her father from an extremely young age — and she grew up thinking that it was normal.

Bloberta was stood over Clay, she had been heating him, relentlessly. Bloberta was hitting him over the head, he had his palms up over his head to try shield himself from her blows. Clay was sat in his armchair.

Bloberta dropped hitting him for a moment, before kicking his leg as hard as she could, digging her high heel into his ankle. She was becoming worse and worse – and Clay was the one dealing with the brunt of it.

Bloberta was..horrible. and the odd thing was, she knew the difference between right and wrong, she knew that she was a bad person for physically and emotionally abusing her husband, yet she continued to hurt him, just because she enjoyed the power trip that came with being the perpetrator of abuse like that.

Bloberta groaned, crossing her arms over her chest, looking down at Clay, who was trying not to start sobbing in pure pain from the beating that Bloberta just gave him.

"God, Clay!" she hissed, bitterly. "I deserve so much better than you. I'm so much better than this. I'm only here for the boys, don't you ever forget that, I wouldnt've even looked your way if I wasn't trying to leave my family."