This is a prequel to Seeking Solace, but you don't have to read it to get this. (I think.)
20 years earlier
Dave darted into his room, slamming the door shut with a resounding bang. He moved a chair under the handle to keep anyone from entering.
He threw his fist into the wall with clenched teeth. That bastard.
He didn't know what set him off: he never did. Maybe his old man ran out of booze; maybe his football team lost. He didn't know.
Maybe he just felt like beating up his kid.
He didn't hear anyone stomping up the stairs: good. That was good. That meant he must've passed out or something.
The adrenaline rush from escaping began to fade, and he could feel the pain spread over his bruised body like oil spilt on pavement. He knelt beside his bed, pulling a first-aid kit from underneath.
He lifted a tissue to wipe away the blood on his lip. Just like he always did. Every. Single. Time.
Maybe if his mother had actually stuck around to take care of him, he wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe he wouldn't be alone.
Loneliness turned to sorrow. Sorrow, to fear. Fear, to hate. Hate, to fury.
And every day, the well of tainted rage burrowed inside his heart only grew deeper.
In the end, he married a sweet girl, Susan, had a son, Jayden…
And the circle ran its course once again.
The reason why doesn't matter; abuse is never justified.