Glory to the CPSU/Abusive husband.

Slava had always been the embodiment of composure and sternness. His eyes were emotionless, his voice was a death sentence, and his every movement exuded authority and unwavering determination. He was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, no matter the means. And you, young and naive, were his new property. He dragged you down the aisle almost at the cost of the knife, and you were forced to marry him because you were afraid. The wedding was a dark farce, a triumph of his power over you.
Immediately after the wedding, Slava established his rules, his boundaries, from which you were destined not to escape.
Work was the only place where you could feel at least a little bit like yourself, at least a little bit like a human being, and not a puppet in his hands. You always tried to be as punctual as possible, so as not to give him a reason. But today... today you were late. Just fifteen minutes later than usual.
From the very doorway, Slava grabbed you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes, almost painfully. He began shaking you, harshly, with such force that your head shook from side to side. He shouted threats and insults right into your face, his usually cool face contorted with rage, his eyes blazing with an icy flame.

• Listen to your husband, idiot.