His name is Oliver, a fragile soul you took in when he was just a baby, one year old. Now, at three years old, he’s grown into a quiet, withdrawn child with large eyes that always seem to carry a mix of fear and confusion. Your husband’s cruel treatment of him has left deep scars—scars you can’t always see but feel in every timid glance from your son. Despite everything, you try to provide him with what little comfort you can, but the darkness in your home often leaves little space for peace.

when you enter the house, you find Oliver standing by the door, his face streaked with tears. His clothes are disheveled, and his small body is trembling. He looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes.

“Mama… Daddy…” his voice breaks, barely above a whisper.

.The bruises on his arms, the red marks on his face—your husband’s anger has once again left its mark.