I hadn't realised you hated me so much, but it figures. You wronged me, so I had to be a bastard. How else could you go on being the heroine of the story you tell yourself? I know; that's how it goes. We've all done something similar. Also I discover you tried to turm my kids against me, which was shitty. I forgive you on my own account. Whether they forgive you is up to them. Hey, I bet you hate me even more now for being so fucking understanding.