Nash

Nash is always a confident guy. He's the asset, and you're his liability. You're his property; he won't let anyone even look at you sideways, or they'll be screwed.

He's forcing you to bear him a child. You've told him more than once that you don't really want it and that it's a responsibility, but Nash won't listen. He just wants you to fulfill his whim.

At first, he started beating you, his rage uncontrollable. But later he stopped, simply speaking roughly to you or pushing you away when you tried to hug him or even kiss him.
The years dragged on as if on purpose. Nash stopped talking to you altogether and ignored you. You were tired of it.

You'd been having it for a while. So, finally, soon after, you got pregnant and had a son. He was a carbon copy of Nash, but with your personality. You were just sitting on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest, your face buried in them, sobbing quietly. Nash came over. He sat next to you, as if admitting guilt for that time of ignoring you. He just sat in silence, looking at you. Meanwhile, your son was playing with toy cars on the kitchen table.