How many It hurts had she wept?
How many times had she begged him with tears in her eyes?
And when pleading didn't work, how many times had she struggled with all her might? With every strength she could muster? Yet what had been the outcome?
He'd violently groped her, the pain in her skull was a testament, and the stings of her cheeks was another. He'd treated her like she wasn't human but an object with no soul of her own, tossed her around like a blood. The harder she wailed, the harsher he got with his assault. Then finally, he made her look him in the eyes and told her the thousands ways he'd murder her if she reported him to anyone.
And now, a change had happened so quickly that she almost thought she was imagining all this in her head.
