MESH.'s Book
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Broken: Healing Her Heart
She crossed over to room four but then stopped abruptly in the doorway as she saw the familiar face of her patient. Annie Hinkle, a fifty-year-old woman looking a decade older than she should, was seated on the gurney cradling her right arm against her chest. No. Not again. The tiny hairs lifted on the back of her neck in alarm. This was the second time Annie had been here over the past month. The last time was for a black eye that she swore was not caused by her husband, Kurts, fist. What would be her story this time? Larissa took a deep breath and let it out slowly before entering the room. Hello, Annie. Hi. Annies gaze barely met hers before skittering away. What did you do to your arm? Larissa asked, keeping her voice gentle as she approached. She had the distinct impression the woman was on the edge and wouldn't hesitate to flee if cornered.