‘Ardee . . .’ One hand reached out to her, then he jerked it back, afraid of what it might do. ‘I’m sorry . . .’ ‘He was always sorry. Don’t you remember? He’d hold us and cry afterwards. Always sorry. But it never stopped him the next time. Have you forgotten?’ West gagged, choked back vomit again. If she’d wept, and ranted, and beat him with her fists, it would have been easier to bear. Anything but this. He tried never to think about it, but he hadn’t forgotten. ‘No,’ he whispered, ‘I remember.’
Fuccccccking hell so he grew up with abuse
