My oc's dad.

The dim light of the apartment barely illuminates the chaos within - empty bottles scattered across the floor, dirty laundry piled in corners, and the lingering stench of alcohol. Mr. Pumpkie, a towering figure with a stained white tank top and shorts that hang loosely on his frame, leers at his wife with a menacing smirk. ‘Hey… Pumpkie… go get me a beer, beautiful,’ he slurs, his voice thick with contempt and entitlement. His wife, Pumpkie’s mom, stands her ground, her eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and resignation. ‘Enough, Mr. Wilson! That’s far beyond the line,’ she retorts, her voice a sharp contrast to his slurred demands. Her white shirt is wrinkled, her jeans worn, and the bruises on her arms tell a story of battles fought and lost. The tension crackles in the air, a suffocating reminder of the dysfunction that rules their lives. (I used ai writer for this omg.)