Closing the door and locking herself in her room.

  She just collapsed at the spot, exhaling a deep breath, trying to calm herself, trying to whisper to herself, but releasing she had no voice; her throat was sore and aching at every attempt.

  So she just repeated and repeated it like a mantra in her head till she had calmed enough to check up on herself: 'I am okay, I am okay, I survived it. I made it. I can do it. I have to be strong; the weak ones don't survive.'

  Ending the repetition with one last sentence, 'I refuse to die by their hands if it's going to end; then it will be by my terms.'

  This wasn't even an ounce of enough time to heal, but she had to manage what she had.

  The main reason being he wouldn't sleep forever, and she still had school, had to clean up, and had to fulfill his assignments, or this pain she was feeling was going to double for sure.

  With that in mind, she stood up even if every nerve in her body was begging her to stay down.

  She made her way, slurring her half-dead body to her own bathroom that was connected to her room.

  She stripped with great struggle out of her clothes and slipped right into the bath, not bearing to look at herself in the bathroom mirror before her sink in the bath. She put on straight the semi-warm water.

  'How calming,' she muttered , leaning for support with her right shoulder on the wall, the water falling on her.

  She stayed like this for a good few minutes before she started moving again, trying to clean herself with soap and a towel, trying not to irritate the open wounds at least as much as possible.

  She went over everything with a gentle touch; even that hurt.

  Every graze hurt like getting burned, and the droplets of water did their best to soothe it, but this didn't help much, as she was overwhelmed by being so sensitive.

  It was like she was being made aware of each big or minor harm on her body, but she didn't stop until she was clean; she couldn't even if she wanted to.

  She nevertheless took her time, almost as if she proclaimed herself as something fragile that needed to be protected and looked after with care.

  But she knew better than that; she wasn't some fragile princess; she was more like a useless side character or a villain driven by force to survive for someone else;

  she was a stepping stone and not a main character; she was an instrument used to make a story progress;

  her only use was to be sacrificed for the main characters, not being one.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  A proof for this fact was her whole life; it just took reality barging into her life to make her recognize it.

  This procedure was taxing, taking more than giving to her after all these wounds and being forced to caress them like she mattered, like this would make it all better.

  Like It was all just a bad dream, and the chance of hope made her feel sick knowing it was a lie and she was doomed.

  Whatever she liked to admit, aloud or not, she knew deep in her conscience it had to be the truth, and the worst of it all was she was the one extending her doom with her own two hands.

  After the painful yet somehow needed relaxing shower and drying, she stood naked before her sink, examining her injuries. It was just as she imagined.

  Her back had the worst scratches; they were everywhere.

  There was almost no untouched skin, but the bleeding had stopped, and there were no deep injuries that needed to be stitched.

  The front was better; there were some cuts and scratches, but the worst was her reopened old injuries. Her face was safe.

  ' This sly bastard even hammered; he knows where it could get tricky, but he also knows the unseen places hurt the most, so here we are.’

  Sighing, Raven continued,

  ‘What a fucking artwork after this; I need to buy new bandaging elements.'

  After checking, she straight got to work; after all, she had no time for sentiments, not if she had to survive. So she did what she always did.

  Taking out creams, bandages, and whatever she needed to make sure it healed or at least didn't get worse than it was.

  In these situations, she was forever thankful to her mom for forcing her to take first aid courses and get a certificate.

  For sure, she had another plan in her head for this, but nonetheless, it helps her.

  Acknowledging the fact that this miracle woman was helping her even without being physically present. 'I will forever love and be thankful to you, Mom.'

  After she finished, she didn't waste any time looking back at herself; she couldn't bear it in her head.

  These marks were a sign of her weakness and punishment for existing; she knew she wasn't ugly; she could tell from the lots of past admirers.

  But hell, she knew ever since all this started she never liked looking at herself.

  To her, this was just a sorry version of her past self; it always reminded her of the things she lost.

  Back in her room, she took a few medicines straight, hoping this would reduce and block the pain as well as possible.

  But she made sure she left her fingers away from the ones that made her sleepy, as she was already tired, and the forced sleep she took didn't last more than a few hours.

  As she looked right up to her wall, she saw on the clock that it was 6:30.

  'Well, shit, here it goes coming earlier again.'

  Sometimes she even wondered why she even bothered to go to school, as it was such a hassle, but that was a question for another time.

  She also noticed that she spent way too long in the bath. She had to be at school at 8 and had to finish herself up, deal with the living room, and make breakfast.

  With that, she stopped her spiraling thoughts and focused on the issues at hand. She had to pack her backpack and wear some freaking clothes.

  The bathrobe wasn't it for school.

  She went straight to her wardrobe, picking clothes that covered her whole body. She had luck. It was bad weather.

  It was raining cats and dogs, so no one would wonder why she wore so many clothes.

  Not that she cared about their actual opinion anyway.

  She had their unwanted attention anyway, but she didn't need more unwanted whispers, as some were more troublesome than others, and this kind of rumor just fit right into the first category.

  After checking her fit for the last time, making sure everything was covered, even the bruises that were forming on her throat from the accident yesterday with the boys

  ' brainless dicks.'

  The reminder of yesterday's incident left a bad taste in her mouth.

  She had gotten weak in the period; he wasn't there. Something like that couldn't happen again.

  That was her final say in that matter.

  With that in mind, she finally put the focus on her face, putting some makeup on to appear at least a little alive.

  The paradoxical fact about make-up was that it didn't just change her outer appearance, like the facial aspects; it changed her whole identity.

  It concealed her true self, making people believe that she was a self-centered prick.

  She was as good as she could be. After all, she didn't have much of a choice, did she?

  Even if these thoughts used to disgust her, this all had just become part of her daily life, like brushing her teeth.

  After all, everyone was putting on a mask, and the more hidden it was, the dirtier were the secrets beneath.

  For sure, there could be genuine people around, but this didn't mean they didn't hide anything; everyone was just trying to live, and she was just more desperate than them; it would be naive to believe everything you saw was everything there was to see.

  It was just how one survived; either you acknowledged it or you didn't, but it wouldn't change the fact that it was true.

  With this knowledge came acceptance, and with acceptance came nonchalance.

  After she was finished with herself, she packed her bag, took the things she needed, and went out of her safe space, locking it behind her.