How could Christopher Robinson miss such a good opportunity?
He leaned back in his chair, looking like a calm and supreme ruler.
"Not listening to your husband's advice, suffering right before your eyes, you'd rather tear open your own wounds and sprinkle some salt on them to shake off the pain. It's you who's bleeding, it's you who wants the truth, it's you who's seeking help like a lonely ghost in the middle of the night. Why bother, Amelia? As adults, how many of us are whole? Who isn't walking forward while licking their wounds? It's only you, standing still and loudly asking for the truth, as if you can't wait to tell everyone that you're the victim."
"You've made your move, but do you dare to kill him? There are many ways to take revenge, and your method of seeking instant gratification is far from clever."
Bang! Amelia mustered all her strength to sit up and then picked up an sshtray from the bedside table and threw it at Christopher, who dodged it.
