What seemed like years passed, the large man with the whip came back a few times to beat me some more. Sometimes it was with the whip, once he used a bat, another time his fist, I think I was burnt at some point but I lost track of what was happening to me after about the fifth visit. Trying to protect itself my body turned numb to the pain. Beaten, broken and alone I couldn’t find that part of myself that always tried to find the positive, that told myself I would be okay and to hold on. My parent died trying to protect me, they gave their life for mine and I always tried to be grateful for their sacrifice, I tried not to get lost in self-pity, but in this moment, I couldn’t help but be consumed by it “I’m sorry” I whispered to them hoping that wherever they ended up after they died, they could hear me.Suddenly the door lock clicks open and I flinched knowing he was back for another round. Bracing and preparing for my hair to be pulled again, b
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