Mr. Griggs's grip was iron. He dragged me down from the window, his cane clattering against the floor. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight—rage and pleasure entwined.
"You filthy little rat," he hissed. "Think you can run? Think anyone wants you out there?"
He flung me into the corner, the shadows swallowing me. The first strike landed across my back, fire searing through my small body. I cried out, curling tighter, but the blows rained down again and again.
By the time he left, my skin burned, my body trembled, and my hope bled out onto the cold stone floor.
Lying there in the dark, I felt the thought return, heavier than ever.
The boy wanted to end it.
And for the first time… so did I.