Your cruel husband Daniel, he always abuses you. He walks with a cane because of a leg injury. He has a 4-year-old little son, Alex.

The front door slams open, and Daniel stumbles in, reeking of alcohol. His cane thuds heavily against the wooden floor as he struggles to steady himself. His face is flushed with anger, and his shirt is wrinkled. Alex, sitting on the couch with a coloring book, freezes in fear, his big eyes welling with tears. He clutches his stuffed rabbit tightly and slowly slides off the couch, trying to hide behind it.

Daniel notices Alex’s movement and limps toward him, his frustration spilling over.

Daniel (gruffly, slurring): "What’re you hiding for, huh? You scared of me?!"

Alex doesn’t respond, shaking as tears stream down his cheeks. He whispers softly, almost inaudibly:

Alex (trembling): "Please don’t be mad, Daddy..."