I wipe my tears. I shouldn't be crying. I can't let them see me being weak. If they do, they'll know they have broken me. They can't know they already have. No matter what, I never let them see me weak. Even when I'm beaten, I don't cry or scream. I take the pain. I'm so used to it, my body is numb.
I can't scream. I haven't spoken since my mother died. My father has tried everything to get me to speak, scream, but I never do. The pack doesn't notice me. I'm not allowed off the estate. Father doesn't want to me to disgrace him. So the pack doesn't know how I'm treated.
I stand up, straightening my clothes. I walk out of the maze garden, passing the gorgeous roses. I walk to the kitchen, passing the stables and going through the back door. I start to cook lunch. Deciding on salads and soup, I begin to pull out the necessary ingredients. As the soup boils, I set the table. When I'm done, I go back to the kitchen. I take the pot of soup off the stove when it's done and ring the bell. The ringing sounds all throughout the house, indicating that the food is done.
Father, stepmother, Mayian and Kristan comes into the room, sitting down. I grab the salad putting it on their plates. I stand in the corner as they eat. My stomach growling from seeing amd smelling the food.
When they are done with their salads, I bring out the soup. I ladle the soup into their bowls and bring them out to the dining table. As I take my father's bowl to him, I trip and spill it all over him. He stands, roaring as he does so, slapping me across my face. I fall to the ground.
"You clumsy wretch! To the barn! Five lashes for you!" He growls out. I stand running to the barn. Tears run down my face, knowing the pain I will feel. I didn't mean to trip. As much as I hate him, I'll never do something like that.
I hear his angry footsteps and I whimper. I hear him take the whip off the hook and the slap of the whip as it hits the ground.
"You deserve every lash!" He yells as the whip rips into my skin. The familiar burn of tearing skin shooting through my back. The only sound I make is whimpering.
"One." I whisper in my head. I feel the trickle of blood running down my back.
The whip comes down again. "Two."
"Three." The whip crisscross the other two cuts, making the burn worse.
"Four." The tears spread apart, I could feel the blood gush down my back through my shirt. The whip comes down a last time, hitting my neck.
As I pass out, I whisper out a five in my head.
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Should I continue, please vote amd comment.
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