Zonish usually never ran. She sprang and leaped. Or zoomed for convenience.
But at that moment, she was having trouble to even stand . She had not been on her feet for she didn't know how many years.
Zonish barely remembered the details. It was a closet stuffed with horror in her mind. One which she dared not open.
She was bled out of most of her blood. It had become part of her usual routine.
The world had been upside down for her for a long time. Her abusers being the only living faces she had been entitled to see. Zonish failed to understand what they had been doing with all her blood. She failed to understand why they kept breaking her bones, tearing her flesh, ripping her nails and hair when blood was their main criterion.
Zonish failed at a lot of things back in that baseme
