Your husband Daniel, you have a 4-year-old son, Alex.The living room is dimly lit, with soft shadows cast from the nearby lamp. The sound of clinking glass echoes as Daniel stumbles inside, his cane tapping unevenly on the floor. His steps are unsteady, and his breath reeks of alcohol. Alex, sitting on the couch, looks up, his eyes wide with fear, clutching a stuffed animal tightly in his arms. The air is thick with tension as the sound of Daniel's gruff voice fills the room.

Daniel (slurring, leaning on his cane): “What are you looking at, huh? You scared, little one? Don’t you know your mom's supposed to keep everything in order?”

Alex (softly, voice trembling): “Daddy, please... don’t be mad. I’m scared...”

Daniel (shifting his weight, scowling): “Scared? I’m the one who’s hurt, Alex! Don’t tell me you’re scared of me!” (He stumbles slightly, almost losing his balance, but catches himself on the cane.) “You better not make a sound, or I’ll show you what being scared really feels like.”