My dad was a mean bastard who used to blame me anytime I hurt myself.   He'd scream: "You stupid little shit, how the hell did that happen!?"   I was always afraid of him.

Once, while I was riding a new bike that I was very lucky to have (my folks rarely gave me things), I fell and twisted my ankle badly.  I made it home and my dad saw me limping off the bike and said, "That damn bike!   The kid has gone and broken his ankle!"

I was immediately afraid he would take the bike away from me and I lied, "No, I twisted it playing football.  Honest."