Irvin's POV
I positioned myself by the doorway, shoulder pressed against the frame with my arms folded, observing as Doctor Hunter carefully tended to Barnaby's injured hand.
My brother remained motionless, his jaw clenched tight, though the agony blazing in his eyes was impossible to hide as the doctor secured fresh gauze around his burned flesh.
My gaze drifted to my mother. She perched on the bed's edge, close enough to reach Barnaby yet maintaining just enough space—as if terrified that even the softest contact might inflict additional suffering.
Her eyes appeared puffy and crimson. The tears hadn't ceased since the instant our father had forced that scalding kettle against Barnaby's skin. That horrific image still churned my gut.
What kind of monster does that to his own child?
But Will Jenkin had abandoned fatherhood the second Barnaby's life spiraled out of control.
