She couldn't hold the door for much longer.

Trina tried. She was pressed against her son's bedroom door, trying to stop Marvin from getting in. He was banging on the door, repeatedly. Marvin was yelling, demanding that she opened the door.

Jason was sat in his bed, asleep. Trina knew Jason was a deep sleeper, he had started to tune these things out. Trina was just scared, she didn't know what to do.

Trina felt Marvin's fist plunge into the door, over and over. Tears fell down her cheeks, and he'd throat was hoarse from crying. Trina winced, still pressing her back and arms against the door.

She hoped he wasn't too mad. Well, Trina knew he was mad. She wished she hadn't chosen to go in Jason's room when Marvin threw a glass at her. Trina was scared of him.

He screamed at Jason. He hurt Jason. Trina could probably deal with it all, take every yell and every beating, so long as Marvin kept their poor son out of the abuse.

Jason was eleven. He was autistic, he was too observant, he knew too much, he was smart, he looked just like his father. Just like his father. Trina choked back more tears.

Marvin hits the door one more time, and it happened.

Trina couldn't hold the door closed any longer. Marvin was in the room. Drunk. Drunk and angry, drunk and pissed.

"Marvin, Marvin, please. He's sleeping." Trina said, shrinking down to the floor, her tone a quiet whimper. She looked over at her sleeping son, hoping Marvin would accept the excuse. And she knew he wouldn't.