He came home late, and silent.
"Hey," her greeting followed him to the bedroom. The utter lack of response said everything. When he'd come back from locking up his stuff he said the only few words that he could manage.
"Six years old. Slapped around and left on the floor. Mom's wasted, and Daddy couldn't care less."
"Oh, baby." Nothing more as she went to him, followed him out to where he slouched on the sofa. Holding him, which was all she could do, because nothing could really help. "I love you, Mikey."
He buried his face in her shoulder.
"Thank god somebody loves somebody."