She lowered her gaze, the melancholy palpable. Silence followed both of us as she reminisced about the memories of her past, though they were not entirely worth remembering. I could feel my blood boil every time she told me about the horrible things she had to go through in that house.
If the devil were a person, her father would be one—so as her stepmother. Hell would be a far more fitting place for them to live in than that manor of theirs.
I'd offered to teach them a lesson for hurting her, but she rejected the offer saying that she'd rather stay as far away as possible from them. She didn't want to meet them, nor did she want them to know about her whereabouts. She said it'd be better if they thought of her as dead.