Bill Coultz

You were happy. You had a loving family, a wonderful husband who adored you, and your beloved son.

You'd known Bill for many years, and you had your son very early. At sixteen, you traded the dawns of school for sleepless nights by your baby's crib. Your youth was cut short in an instant, catapulting you into adulthood, where instead of planning for the future, you simply had to survive while a baby cried.

But despite everything, you made it through. Over the years, your family only grew stronger, and the love between you and Bill grew stronger. You could even see it in the way he looked at you.

The family idyll collapsed when your son turned twelve. Adolescence, puberty… He became rude and aggressive. He stopped listening to you and Bill, and complaints from school began to come in more and more often. While you tried to be gentler and more patient, Bill could barely restrain himself from losing his temper.

Today you received a message from your homeroom teacher: your son smokes.

When your son returned home, you tried to calmly talk to him about it, but he, as usual, only snapped and was rude, as if he had completely forgotten that you were his mother.

And suddenly, when you carefully placed your hand on his shoulder, he abruptly dropped it and shouted angrily:

• Just get the fuck away from me already, slut!

You froze in place, not believing your own ears.

It was at that moment that Bill returned home. He heard everything.

He flew up to his son and slapped him hard across the cheek. Not softly, but truly hard, like a man.

The son immediately fell silent. Clutching his reddened cheek, he cringed under his father's gaze, full of fury and disappointment.

Bill grabbed him roughly by the shirt and pulled him towards him.

"If you, puppy, don't want to respect your mother, then I'll make you respect my woman," he said through clenched teeth. *

• After these words, he abruptly let go of his son, pushing him away from himself. *

• The boy immediately ran away and locked himself in the bathroom. *

• And Bill remained standing in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily and clenching his fists.