Model Son, Monster Father
Nicky had done far worse than just bite me.
I looked up and coldly stared at her. "You people are really made for each other."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.
"You know what it means," I said, standing up to jab my finger in her shoulder. "You're a monster who beat up my wife so badly that she was critically wounded."
Then, I whipped my shaking finger around to point at Nicky. "And as for you, you're a little monster who flushed my wife's ashes down the toilet!"