"What is it?" Jackson Sully asked quietly.
Zachary Armstrong looked at her and slowly said, "It's something that is closely linked to your life."
Jackson Sully met his eyes, and fell silent.
Zachary Armstrong turned around, took one bottle of alcohol, poured some onto a cotton ball, and then gently pulled aside some of Jackson Sully's clothes. He pressed the cotton ball against two gunshot wounds on her chest.
Jackson Sully was a bit surprised, but had to admit that the wounds had been there for some time.
They kept tearing and scabbing over repeatedly, never healing properly. Since being captured and brought here, the surroundings were dark and damp, and her wounds weren't properly treated. In recent days, they had even begun to fester, so it was true that she needed to properly tend to the wounds on her body.
"Thank you."
Seeing Zachary Armstrong turn around to grab some powder medicine, Jackson Sully watched his strong, tall figure and spoke softly.
