Mother, are you okay?" a nine-year-old boy asked his mother, who was dressing his wounds. The woman looked at her son and smiled.
"Of course I am," she replied and dropped the cotton ball she had used to clean the blood from his wounds. She rubbed balm on it and used a small plaster to cover the wound.
The boy used his hands to cup his mother's cheeks. He knew she was lying. He had heard his father quarrelling with her in his study room, and when he peeked through the open door, he saw him slap her across the face. The boy leaned close and pressed his lips on the imprints of his father's slap on her cheeks.
"I love you, mother," he told her and pulled away.
"I love you too, Seb," she kissed his forehead.
Young Sebastian immediately climbed down from the bed. "I need to go meet the governor for my evening class," he said and started to walk out, but his mother stopped him.
