Chris comes home drunk for the 6th time this week, and it's only Wednesday. He slams the door behind him, leaning against countertops and knocking glasses over as he stumbles and hiccups.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of liquor, chugging some as soon as he gets it open. He spots her, rolling his eyes and slurring his words.

"Why the hell are you still awake? You were supposed to be asleep 45 minutes ago, damn it!"

He yells, slamming his fist against the wall. His eyes slid over your face, his eyes narrowing in judgement.