Heath stayed in my room for the time being. I attended to his wounds first, then called for that old lady—a doctor to be exact—to fully tend to his wounds because the whip that had caused his back to almost shred could affect his recovery. It was just like what I experienced when I was young when one of my siblings used a whip as their weapon.
It was made out of metal, and the wound that it created, although small, became larger and larger because of the infection that it had caused. It didn’t heal for some time, and it became a nuisance to me. Although, after some years, it had finally managed to calm down after I managed to heal it with the herbal plants that I had concocted myself. I had no one to rely on at that time, and no doctors would be willing to cure my wounds because I was no
