But the next second, he pushed me into hell. He glanced at the scene with cold indifference.
"Just don't kill anyone."
I was thrown into the guest room. The men circled me, demanding obedience just like before.
I lay there, still and silent. A wooden puppet with a severed soul.
Blows landed. Insults rained down. I endured it all without a sound.
"Boring," one spat. "She's like a corpse."
"Just take the photos and be done with it. She's ruined anyway."
I let them arrange my limbs like a doll. As the camera flashes blinded me, my mind drifted away.
I saw a little girl in tattered clothes, shrinking into the corner of a cold room. That was the day I learned I wasn't their real daughter. The day I first learned to hide in the dark and lie to myself that it would get better.
Just hold on a little longer, I used to tell myself. When you find your real mom and dad, everything will be fine.
Mom and Dad will love you. They'll make up for everything.
I shook my head, trying to banish those childish echoes.
They don't love you.
Right now, even I was disgusted by my own existence.
The men had finished with me. They locked the door from outside, leaving me in silence.