It had been two months since that night. Two months of endless pain, both physical and emotional. The beatings, the yelling, the control-none of it shocked me anymore. Even the worst of it-the nights Theo forced himself on me-had become something I expected. I didn't cry anymore. I didn't fight. I didn't even dream of escaping.
I was tired.
Resisting him just made him more stronger, crueler, and always in control. The punishments harsher. The nights longer.
I just existed, moving through the days like a ghost. My body doing what it was told while my mind stayed numb. It was the only way to survive.
The only time I felt a bit of happiness was when Theo’s mother came to visit. Her presence was like a break from the nightmare I lived in.
When she was around, it felt like I could breathe,
