The first scar was precise. That was what Eva Sterling noticed, more than the pain, more than the fear: the precision with which her father-in-law worked.
Henry Sterling was a retired surgeon. Even at sixty-two, even with the arthritis that had twisted his right hand into a claw-like shape, he moved with the same clinical exactness he had brought to three decades of operating room work. The instrument he held was not a branding iron or a whip or any of the crude tools of domestic abuse Eva had read about in newspapers. It was a scalpel—sterile,...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 2 Views 0 voorbeeld