You lay quietly on the couch, watching TV —Although it didn't last long before you heard the door of the house slam closed and Tyler's heavy footsteps approaching the living room, passing in front of you on the way to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and having a cold beer. He approaches you again on the sofa, sitting on the other end, away from you and in silence, with a cigarette in his hand and a can of beer in the other, his face has slight bruises, and some traces of blood on his lip.