Dan was thirteen.

He sat on the tattered pink couch in his living room, the scratchy blanket over top of it used to hide the stains making him mildly uncomfortable, but not enough that he would move to sit on the floor. The TV in front of him displayed an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants, although he found it incredibly difficult to concentrate on it. He was supposed to be sweeping the kitchen, and his mother had specifically told him not to turn on the television, so he was already breaking two of her rules. Still, he had decided, it wouldn't be the end of the world if he watched one show before doing his chores. She wouldn't be home for at least another hour anyway.

Or so he had thought. Only ten minutes later, his mother's old car was pulling up in the driveway, but Dan couldn't hear it over the TV volume. What he did hear, however, was the sound of a key turning in the door which happened to be in the hall right next to the room he was currently in. He rushed to grab the remote and turn off the TV before his mother could see, but he was too late.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He froze.

"I said, what are you doing, brat? Didn't I specifically tell you not to watch that thing?" she snarled, pointing to the TV while Dan still stood there, unable to move.

She threw her bag down onto the floor in the hall and walked to the next room over, the kitchen. After a few seconds, she came storming back in, shouting at him.

"I come back after a day of hard work to find you sitting here directly disobeying me by sitting on your lazy ass and watching TV, and you haven't even done the chores I asked you to?! What kind of an excuse for a son are you?" she yelled, slowly approaching him and raising a hand. It was clear she hadn't really been working, just drinking, but he decided not to point this out.

Still unable to move out of fear, Dan just stood there and let her forcefully connect her palm with his cheek. Then again. And again. She hit him a total of seven times before staggering back off into the kitchen for a beer and leaving him there, alone again, to cry.