It was the evening. Olivia was crouching in the corner, wounds all over her face and her body. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
Suddenly, her lungs throbbed, and the smell of rust gushed out of her throat. Her throat tickled and stung. She wanted to cough but dared not, for she feared making the slightest sound would make them beat her up again.
Olivia bit her tongue and dug her nails into her flesh, using the pain to suppress the urge to cough. Then, she swallowed the blood. However, this would not be the end of it.
She had not taken her painkillers today, so she did not know how many more times the pain would strike her that night.
John had told them to beat her up. It seemed he doted on Dorothy a lot.
‘Heh. Dorothy was his angel. What am I, then?’
Tears ran down her face, but she did not dare sob. She held them back carefully until the morning.
She had hardly slept, and her usually bright eyes looked dim and haggard.
Suddenly, the door opened, and someone walked in. Their pair o
