The death of his wife made Elizabeth's father overprotective. He was determined not to lose her. He kept her very close and controlled as much of his life as he could. She had little say in her life. Her father had very high expectations of his only child. He had her into a gifted classes. He expected her to be perfect. He wasn't abuse, at least not physically. He could be very harsh when Elizabeth didn't met his expectations. He pointed out every tiny mistake that she made. Moving out one her own had taken more courage then Elizabeth thought she had but she succeeded now she was learning how to live and make decisions on her own.

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He told her seriously. Ever since his father had thrown him into the kitchen and ordered him to cook them something. He had never cooked before. He had no idea how to do it but he knew that if he didn't he would suffer more. He pulled himself off the floor and searched for something to cook. "I was eight the first time I cooked. I had no idea what I was doing." He had been naked and shivering. He still had no idea how he had managed to make them that casserole. He had mostly just been throwing things together. He never made another casserole.