#Chapter40
‘‘Tears and begging don’t work on me. I know all your little wiles, London. As you keep telling me—I don’t have the heart to give a shit.’’ He’s so cold and I just give in, inevitable fate, no way to fight his strength, and I am all alone surrounded by people paid to look the other way. I know futile when I see it, and instead, I try to put what’s left of my fight and energy into self-protection mentally, rather than physically. There was a reason I used to revert to compliant silence; it’s the only way to mentally disconnect from the horror being done to you, and the only way to salvage any sort of sanity. It’s how I have lived through all I have and come out with some ounce of a functioning human.
