“My mother loved me,” she said. Maybe her father had too. Maybe all he did—the bandages so tight her fingers turned numb, the end of the butter knife in the gas flame—was the form his love had taken. Maybe fear had twisted it, leaving it threadbare.
Still see this as abusive but hmm. Even though a lot of books really tout the whole 'forgive your parents for what they've done, they thought it was best' thing... this fits this book well even though i don't necessarily agree with the sentiment (they chose to stamp out a part of Miel at the cost of something great)
