Chapter 763
“I didn’t do it, I swear… Please, don’t hit me… Dad, stop, it hurts, it really hurts p>
Tarquin’s brow furrowed with concern as he rushed over and wrapped his arms around her, “Elysia p>
It was as if a jolt of electricity shot through her, her body trembling violently as she fought back, “Don’t hit me! Get away from me p>
But Tarquin held her tight, his heart breaking into pieces.
Those damn Thorne family monsters!
“Elysia, it’s me! Wake up-” Tarquin clung to her, calling out, hoping to snap her out of the nightmare.
After a struggle, Elysia’s eyes fluttered open, tears veiling her vision.
She looked around, timid and cautious, her eyes wide with the fear of a little girl who’s just experienced something terrifying.
“Elysia Tarquin’s heart ached for her.
Elysia stared at him for a moment, as if recognizing him for the first time, and then burst into tears, burying herself in his embrace as if seeking refuge,
“I had a nightmare, a terrible nightmare p>
Tarquin felt a lump in his throat, his eyes swelling with tears, overwhelmed with empathy.
He hugged her close, trying hard to keep his own emotions in check, his voice husky with comfort,
“Don’t be afraid, I’m here now. No one will ever hurt you again! You have me, you have the kids, we’ll protect you… It’s okay now p>
Elysia cried in his arms, a horrific dream dragging her back into her past.
What she had endured as a child was a blur, forgotten and obscured.
Since she could remember, she had already been covered in bruises and wounds. To her parents, disciplining her was as routine as dinner. Her face often swollen, her body a canvas of blues and purples.
Blake lashed out at her when work went south.
Juliet hit her when money was tight and she couldn’t afford her favorite dresses or jewelry.
Daphne’s mischief and poor grades would somehow always end up being Elysia’s fault in the eyes of Blake and Juliet.
It seemed that whenever someone in the Thorne family was upset, Elysia was their target.
Living on leftovers, wearing Daphne’s hand-me-downs, even being punished to stand or kneel outside in thunderstorms and snow – it was all too
common.
As a child, she didn’t understand what domestic abuse was, or that she could seek legal protection. She endured it all alone, hiding her tears in secluded corners.
She couldn’t cry out loud, couldn’t let the Thorne family see her tears, for it would only bring more violence.
As she grew, so did her awareness to protect herself. School issues even brought police attention once.
The Thorne family, under various pressures, finally refrained from hitting her for no reason, turning instead to relentless verbal abuse.
Mocking her as a bastard, a slut, a worthless dog, an ungrateful wretch p>
Despite everything, they allowed her to attend school, though with even more disdain.
No tuition, no living expenses, not a dime for her to spend.
From middle school to university, she survived on scholarships and the kindness of others.
She studied with desperate intensity, knowing education was her only escape from that cold, indifferent home.
But brilliance wasn’t her gift; relentless effort was her only path p>
Receiving her university admission letter, she cried for hours, a mix of pain, relief, and joy flooding through those tears.
She had once truly loved the Thorne family – they were her parents, her family. How could she not?
But after each betrayal, her heart withered.
Now, she felt nothing but indifference towards the Thorne family. The love she once had was eradicated by their own hands, leaving no trace behind.
Yet, seeing Daphne sometimes reignited those old feelings of pain and injustice p>
So, she still felt sad, still felt heartbroken, still ached inside.