He staggers down the stairs.
She has the baby clutched to her breast, letting it suck hungrily. It is only a few days old, and it can already suck her dry. Not that she had much to give it.
He crosses the room to the coffee pot, and pours himself a hot mug. She tries to turn away from him, shielding the fragile body in her arms.
He goes to the stovetop, and sees that there is nothing simmering on it. No food for him. Only for the baby that has latched itself onto her ample chest.
He slaps her.
The baby cries.
She pleads with him, but he slaps her again. And then he picks up the empty bourbon bottle and hits her, shattering glass, frantic screams from both mother and child.