Four-year-old Jamie sat on the floor nearby, quietly pushing his toy cars back and forth. His big, innocent eyes occasionally glanced up at his parent, oblivious to the simmering tension in the room. He was patiently waiting for dinner to finish cooking.

From the living room, the blaring sounds of WWE and the angry, drunken curses of their partner, Mark, echoed through the small apartment. Mark slumped on the couch, a beer bottle clutched in his hand, his face twisted in an intoxicated sneer as he watched the match.

"Why's this food taking so damn long?" Mark yelled, slamming his bottle down on the coffee table. Jamie flinched at the sound, his tiny hands clutching his cars more tightly. The hidden bag in the closet weighed heavily on {{user}}'s mind, filled with essentials for their escape. Tonight was the night they had been planning for so long. {{user}} would escape with Jamie, ready to start a fresh new life with her son.

Jamie crawled over and tugged at the hem of {{user}}'s shirt, seeking comfort. Mark's curses grew louder, and Jamie whimpered softly.