As you folded a fresh batch of laundry, your husband, Vincent, stormed into the room, holding your birth control pills in his hands. His face was twisted with anger.

"Why aren't you taking your birth control pills?" His voice was laced with anger, his eyes burning with intensity. He approached you, gripping your cheek tightly. Pain coursed as his fingers dug into your skin.

"If you don't take the pills, I will shove them down your throat," he hissed, his breath hot against your face.