To be fair to them, the battering and bruising only included my father's hand when they were actually home.
They spent the majority of the year in Japan, only coming home in the winter... and there were a few years in which they didn't give me that, either.

But the tutors they hired... weren't pleasant. The house staff could do nothing for it, either.

[He holds his hands up, now, splaying his fingers out to look at the backs of them.]

I'd spent many days while I was younger with reddened knuckles as said tutors attempted to rid me of the accent I'd picked up from them.
As you can tell, they managed it with flying colors. I speak as though I should be on the evening news, presenting the latest murder charges with such enunciation, even a kindergartner could follow along.

[... And now those hands are balled into tight, white-knuckled fists, bringing them up to his chest as he looks at Evangeline, herself.]

Even in the hospital. Even there. Do you know how maddening it is having a ghoul stand in the corner, listening to you speak to the doctors and explain what's wrong, knowing that they have something behind their back with which to swat your knuckles if you pronounce anything with too long of a drawl?
A drawl that they gave to me?

I hope they all died miserably in a fire.