“My dear,” the bishop approached Katerina slowly. Tears slid down her temple into the sapphire-colored upholstery, “do you swear to me it was your father, and not your young man, who hurt you so badly?”
She looked askance at him.
“Sometimes abusive men can coerce women into lying, but if you marry him, the abuse will continue.”
“No.” She steeled herself, using the last of her faltering strength to force the words out. “Marriage is the only way to stop it. Christopher didn"t do this to me. Father did. I"ve only known Christopher for two weeks.”
“I see,” the bishop replied, understanding dawning on his friendly, wrinkled face, “and those scars are much older, aren"t they?”
“Some are ten years old,” she elaborated, straining to move her numb lips.
“I"m sorry for all you"ve had to endure
