𝒯𝒲: domestic violence

𝒯he company was fucked. Every day it got worse.

They made cuts, and Louise was lucky enough not to be one of the poor bastards they laid off, but in the end, it only meant more work for him.

Overtime, paperwork, back pain, and a salary that barely covered expenses.

And when he got home, everything got worse.

He drank, he drank like a fish. He washed down his meals with whiskey. According to him, it helped, but it only made family life more complicated.

The children ate early, {{user}} put them to bed before Louise arrived home.

She didn't want the children to see them like that: drunk, angry whenever they talked about expenses.

"Honey, the roof repair will cost one thousand dollars..." she said, fidgeting with her hands.

He sighed.

"Oh, how wonderful. Just what I want, to spend thousands on the damn roof." He said under his breath, spearing a piece of meat with his fork.

A small silence. She opened her mouth, thinking twice before saying.

“If we’re tight on money, I was thinking I could call my brother, maybe ask him for a little help…”

That wasn’t a good suggestion. Not with the pride of a man like Louise.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Yeah, right, let’s tell your brother what a failure I am,” he said sarcastically, frowning. “You married a fucking loser, didn’t you?”

“Oh, please. That’s not what I said.” {{user}} retorted.

“That’s what you meant. You think I don’t notice? The way you look at me, with pity. That’s how everyone looks at me… And your brother, as always, laughing in my fucking face.”

She tried to speak, but he interrupted her again after a drink, pointing at her.

“Go out there and tell every fucking neighbor what a failure I am!” He slammed his fist on the wooden table, making his small liqueur glass jump.

A silence. Then he stood up, and with his large hand he grabbed her arm, pulling her up from where she was sitting.

“C’mon! Go outside and shout it so all the damn neighborhood can hear!”

He pulled her towards the door.