He thinks he can punish me. He can’t.
I’ve suffered every possible torture imaginable.
I’ve been shot, beaten, stabbed, whipped; the list goes on.
And it wasn’t just physical pain; it was psychological. I suffered alone. I suffered without any comforting touch for years. I went without food. I went without light.
I adapted. My body learned to shut down like a bear hibernates to survive the winter. My body learned to lock itself away only leaving the most vital of organs functioning.
No one can truly hurt me.
Yes, I don’t like people’s touch, but I can handle it. I’ve held Zeke’s hand for the last eight hours. It’s not a picnic, but I can endure it.
Yes, I don’t like the water or boats, but Enzo threw me into the water, and I survived only suffering through a frantic heartbeat
