Henry opened and closed the lighter as he sat in front of the battered woman, who had her head hung lowly while she shivered in his presence, her three-year-old daughter was playing with Liam and Ron at the other end of the living room.
She reminded him of his mother, small, fragile and all bruised up, yet the foolish old woman kept protecting him.
“I will ask again, Mrs. Russell, where is your husband?” the woman said nothing, it is the fifth time he had asked the question but the woman was silent and still like a tree. She was sweating profusely from the pressure that was laid on her. Henry said slightly frustrated from the woman’s stubbornness.
“Your husband probably did that to you, and from the color of the bruise, it seems to be about three days.” He said with a small frown. “Wh
