In almost an instant, the man who was previously sitting on the couch had already briskly walked over, bending down to pick up the photograph from within the sharp glass shards. In his dazed state, the ominous aura around him seemed even more bone-chilling.
Yvonne Finley was stunned, her eyes filled with confusion and exhaustion: "...The person in the photo...?"
"It's none of your concern."
The answer she received was indifference from Hank Finn. His dark lashes lifted, hiding a storm within his eyes as he spoke in a heavy, deep voice.
Yvonne Finley didn't believe him. As her gaze tried to catch another glimpse of the photo, he swiftly snatched it away.
She pressed her lips together, "That place is clearly an asylum in Chelsea. No one understands that place better than I do."
The person in the photo.
Who could it be, if not her?
Why was she in a photo with this man?
She was sure she didn't remember meeting a man like him in her childhood.