Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change? novel Chapter 1228

“I won’t come near you. I won’t touch you—unless you want me to. I promise.”

Joyce gave a gentle smile, steadying herself on the heavy chair. “This thing’s really heavy. How about we put it down, okay?”

She could feel the tension in the other woman’s arms gradually fading.

Finally, the chair thudded softly against the floor.

Joyce kept her distance. Instead, she slipped off her white coat and draped it over the back of the chair. Then she removed her shawl, holding it out as she nodded toward Sherilyn. “It’s clean—I just brought it from home this evening. Why don’t you put it on? You’ll feel warmer, all right?”

Sherilyn stared at her, lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came.

Joyce took it as a cautious invitation. She moved slowly, step by careful step, making sure Sherilyn didn’t flinch or pull away. When she finally reached her, she gently wrapped the shawl around Sherilyn’s shoulders, covering her bare skin.

Joyce pointed to the first aid kit, then at Sherilyn. “You’re hurt. I need to take a look and patch you up, okay?”

This time, Sherilyn didn’t resist. Her eyes stayed dull and distant, but she let Joyce tend to her wounds.

When Joyce finished and closed up the kit, she heard Sherilyn mumble, “Jenna…”

“Sorry?” Joyce leaned in, unsure if she’d heard right. “Did you say something?”

But Sherilyn had withdrawn, curling up in her corner again, silent and unreachable.

“Doctor, thank you for your help.”

A police officer appeared at the door, motioning for Joyce to step outside.

Shouldering her medical bag, Joyce headed out. She turned to the officer walking beside her. “Officer, can I ask—what exactly did Sherilyn do?”

“Assault. She got in a fight and injured two white men.”

Joyce stopped in her tracks, shocked. “What?”

Sherilyn—this timid girl—had done that? It seemed impossible.

But her disbelief didn’t last long.

That evening, the story ran on the local news: Sherilyn, a waitress at a downtown diner, had defended herself after two men harassed her—and she’d hurt them badly in the struggle.

The nurses on duty couldn’t stop whispering about it.

“She looks so tiny, but she must be tough as nails!”

The next time Joyce saw Sherilyn, the girl looked even worse than before.

In just a few days, she’d become a shadow of herself—gaunt, pale, her cheeks sunken, eyelids bruised and ringed with red, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

“She’s been like this the whole time,” the officer said, glancing at the lawyer. “You want to defend her? Good luck—she won’t say a word.”

The lawyer looked at Joyce, uncertain. “Should we…?”

“Just a minute.”

Joyce pressed her lips together and moved closer to the bars, rapping them gently with her knuckles.

“Hi, Sherilyn. Remember me?”

No response. Sherilyn stared off into space, lost.

Joyce fished her phone from her pocket, found the video, and held it up for Sherilyn to see.

“Take a look—this is your daughter, isn’t it? Jenna?”