Misery clung to some people more than others, digging its claw into their hearts until it stopped beating with hope.
In that regard, Elijah was fortunate. Almost.
His abuse lived behind closed doors, hidden where no one could witness it.
But some weren't spared that dignity. Their sorrows were dragged into the open, laid bare for the world to see. A different kind of humiliation.
And never by choice.
After all, who would ever want their wounds displayed, left to rot under the eyes of strangers?
If Elijah had to give misery a language, it would speak through bullying.
Even a prestigious academy like Kingsmere wasn't spared from such a heinous crime.
Arvy had sent the file report from nearly seven years ago.
Although he had some inkling, the reality was still difficult to stomach.
Elijah suspected that he hadn't been subjected to such things purely because of his face.
