Chapter 3. Zoey

Present Day (Boxing Day 2020)

My vision blurred from the blow to my face. I was already beaten to a pulp, lying flat on the floor. The punch knocked the air out of my lungs. My nose stung. I could feel the blood running down my pharynx. I rolled to my side, coughing and choking on my blood. Still gasping, he held my hair and yanked my head so that I was looking at him. 

"Tell me, Zoey, what were you doing in Chelsea's chambers? I told you never to leave this room."

I didn't answer him. I just flashed him a bloodied grin. His face was twisted with anger. He hadn't been enjoying himself while beating me lately. I wasn't crying enough anymore, he said. 

When a person had been beaten to a pulp almost every day for six years, they built up a tolerance for the pain.

That was what happened to me, my tolerance for his beatings was high.

I still felt pain though, in fact, right at that moment, I was in an excruciating amount of agonizin