Inheritance

Interesting…

Sylvester Pilgrim

She looked up when I walked in. Bruises lined her face, her swollen eye; cracked lip. She’d been crying. I didn’t know how long but could only imagine. She huddled protectively over our son. I walked over to them both and reached out to stroke her once lovely blonde hair but she shrank from my touch. My heart ached at the sight.

My son looked up at me and I was transported back to when I was his age and I had looked at my father with the same innocence and fear. My father had been a violent drunk. We’d paid the price.

I tried again to touch her and this time she allowed the contact, though a shiver ran through her body. She turned and looked into my eyes and started to cry. Pulling her close, I stroked her tangled and matted hair. My throat was dry. My voice…

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