Elena’s POV:
I laid on my bed, my body aching from yesterday’s beating and the stress of washing piles of plate. Every inch of me felt sore, my skin still tender from where my father’s fists had landed. My muscles screamed in exhaustion, but I didn’t move. I just stared at the ceiling, listening.
Laughter drifted from downstairs—deep voices, murmured conversations, the occasional chuckle. My mother’s voice was among them, light and pleasant, as if she weren’t the same woman who had stood by and watched as I was beaten.
I closed my eyes.
It wasn’t my business.
I didn’t care who those men were. I wasn’t going to marry anyone, especially not the desperate fools she had lined up like cattle.
I felt light headed and slowly drifted off to sleep out of exhaustion.
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Morni
