“You know, they’re supposed to take care of us. Parents are supposed to look after us, and love us, and talk and hug and all that sappy stupid stuff. You know that, right?” “Yeah.” Colin stared back down at the floor. He looked fragile, sunken in on himself. Isaac’s voice firmed. “No, I mean, do you know it – all the way down to your bones? The ones that break and reform. Really know it. I don’t think we heal, without that knowledge. You get to blame him. And her. You get to hate them even. I give you permission, if you need it.”
