Ethan gritted his teeth, his eyes pinched with disdain. He was exactly the same height as his Dad at five ten, and he weighed about the same too. At only nineteen, though, he was lean and muscled in comparison to Grant, in his mid-forties. Yet as he stood over his son, what Grant lacked in youthful athleticism and strength he more than made up for in bubbling anger that seemed to be growing with each escalating indiscretion his son delivered at their door.

‘Stop!’

At the sound of the shriek both men froze, but they didn’t turn. Their eyes remained fixed on each other, both prepared for an attack.

‘Just stop! Both of you.’

The exasperation in his wife’s voice knocked the edge off Grant’s rage. Really, what was he going to do? Pummel his son into the ground? It was hardly the best reaction, given it was his son’s anger and miscreant nature that had catapulted them into this position in the first place. But someone had to put Ethan in his place.

‘You’ve gone too far this time,’ Grant growled.

‘Me? What the hell about you?’ Ethan clambered back to his feet and dusted himself down. ‘You just assaulted me!’

‘Are you taking the piss? Look at her!’

‘I should call the police,’ Ethan said.

‘Maybe you should. Then you could explain why your mother has a black eye.’

‘She came at me! Just like you did. You’re mad, both of you.’

Grant turned around and looked over at Mary. She didn’t react at all to what Ethan had said. Her lack of protest suggested maybe Ethan’s words weren’t entire fabrication.

‘See? Told you. Self-defence, that is.’

Ethan was now smirking, though how he could find the situation in the least amusing, Grant had no idea. Did he actually get off on doing this sort of thing to his parents, who’d only ever loved him and wanted the best for him?

‘If you ever touch her like that again…’

‘You’ll what?’ demanded his son.

‘I’ll tear your damn head off.’

Ethan scoffed at that, and Grant clenched his fists again, trying not to rise to the bait.

‘You know what?’ Grant said, fighting to regain his cool. ‘Just get out of here.’

‘I only came for some of my stuff. You can’t keep my stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

‘My clothes. My things. You can throw me out but you can’t just take everything off me.’

Grant once again looked over at his wife for confirmation.

‘Seems you’ve already given most of it away, though,’ Ethan spat.

‘We thought you didn’t want it,’ Mary said. ‘It was just a bunch of old clothes.’

‘Ethan, just get the hell out of my sight.’

‘Fine, whatever. But you two owe me.’

‘We don’t owe you anything.’