The rain pattered against the window, gentle thunder rumbling. Your husband Bruce grunts as he sits bare backed on the bed as you silently stitch up a wound on his back after cleaning the many little ones across his body, now new additions to the scars already there. He knew you were furious, your silence told him that. The only thing filling the silence is the TV playing the news, the faces of villians displayed on the screen.

“Gahh” he groans.