Valerie crumpled in the corner of the room, her knees buckling under the weight of a night that refused to end. The dim light cast harsh shadows across her tear-streaked face. In front of her, Demian towered a silhouette swallowing any remnants of hope she might have clung to.
"Look at me, Val," Demian's voice was sharp, dangerously soft like a whisper from the grave. His hand clamped around her chin, forcing her gaze upward.
"Do you really think your tears mean anything to me?"
Valerie sobbed, trying to swat his hand away, but her strength had deserted her no fight left, only fear and a burning sense of humiliation eating at her core.
"I… I want to leave…" she choked out, every word a forbidden act she knew would be punished.
Demian chuckled coldly.
