I feel you. Of the three relationships my mother had while I was growing up, none of them were peaceful. The first was with my biological father, who I live with now. They were fighting constantly and eventually divorced, partly because he was always working and never had sex with her. The second man was abusive, even hit her while she was pregnant, and the shouting in the house never stopped. I would stay in my room because if I came out, she would take the anger he inflicted on her and direct it at me. The most recent one, which she is still in somehow, has been more of the same. It was endless yelling, often about his ex-wife and his daughter who lived with us and was sneaking her boyfriend in for sex. Arguments would drag on for hours, we even got noise complaints, and then she would get mad at me for not wanting to step in and defend her.