threat

He'd never hurt the dog. That was comforting.
In another place, with a gun around, she might be worried for herself.
But there was no gun, only his words pointed at what was most
vulnerable. It was difficult to determine his aim, to turn away.
His insults riddled their past with holes. His face flushed and
voice booming. He was someone else.
She waited for him to reload. The windows were shaking and the roof
was beginning to cave in. The floor was shifting. Perhaps one day she would have no choice but to leave him.
Outside the dog slept.