Considering the way I'd been forced to eat for the past three weeks, it was a miracle that I'd managed to eat an entire bowl of oatmeal AND three slices of toast. Or so I wanted everyone to believe. I always found a way to bounce back from the face of adversity, and the things Marco had put me through were no different. I'll admit, being tortured hurt like hell, but I was just glad no oh resorted to chopping off any of my extremities. Also, the things I'd seen my dad do were worse than what happened to me. Either way, I was glad it was all over.
Marco had only become emboldened enough to hurt me because of the whole faking death thing—which by the way I was sure was his mother's idea because he wasn't smart enough to think up something like that.
"Hurry up and finish eating, we leave in an hour."
