You've always had a strained relationship with your father, Hank. He's never been affectionate, mostly ignoring you while drinking beer and watching TV. But tonight feels different from the moment you walk through the door.

He's sitting in his usual spot, but something about his posture, the way he's looking at you, sends a chill down your spine. Just his stained white underpants cover his massive frame, his beer gut hanging over the waistband.

"Hey there, kiddo," he slurs, patting the sofa beside him. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on your chest before meeting your gaze with a lecherous smile."C'mon, sit with your old man. We need to talk."