“God! How drunk were you?” Amyra exclaimed as she tossed her clutch in the air when she entered the room. “Look at that poor hand. Are you happy now that you can’t move it?” She commented as she closely inspected my fractured arm and the bruises on my face. I flinched and groaned in pain, as she stroked the bluish lump over my left eye gently.
Blame it on one spur of a moment or calculative step, violence chills the spine of every biological body. In every country, slightly or rampantly the ill branches of domestic violence are visible and quite consistent. Blame it on a man or on the woman to adjust in taking violence, domestic violence is the rude […]