He'd been waiting for this day for years, years too long. Crimson had abused his wife, both psychologically, physically and verbally, throughout their marriage.

He didn't love her, he didn't care about her, nothing. He only saw her as a tool to create more heirs to his mob empire.

Crimson wanted atleast two sons. And when Moxxie was born, he was happy that the child was a boy. So he waited for her to get pregnant again. And he waited. And he waited.

And then he found out that Loretta was physically incapable of falling pregnant or bearing another child, Moxxie was a miracle child, realistically, it should've been impossible for him to have been convinced anyways. And this meant that she was no longer of use to him. At all.

They kept on fighting. He kept on hitting her, he never sympathy for it, he never once considered his dad might feel about it, he never even questioned the fact that he beat his own wife, with his own son being aware of it all.

So, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Moxxie needed to toughen up and become a man anyways, and his mother's absence could do just that.

Crimson tied Loretta up, put a sack over her head and chucked her into a rowing boat with a hundred pound weight tied to her leg for when he and Moxxie were to chuck her overboard and leave her to die.

Moxxie was twelve years old.

Crimson led Moxxie onto the boat. They rowed further into the sea, the dark blue water rippling underneath them. Loretta tried to speak, but all that came out were muffles and loud sobs.

Moxxie couldn't handle it. He didn't cry, but he knew the endgame, so everything felt dreadful. The soft bobbing of the boat made his stomach churn in disgust. Moxxie drew a smiley face atop the back that was roped over his mother's head to make himself feel slightly better.

Finally, the rowing boat came to a stop, Crimson got on his knees, beside Moxxie but behind Loretta, and placed his hands on her shoulders, ready to push her overboard.

"Say goodbye to your momma." he cooed, smirking sadistically.