There was absolutely no benefit in begging an abuser to save your life. Isiah had learned that brutal truth the hard way. Not only would the violent strikes continue, but the harsh, degrading words would only grow worse.
No combination of words, gestures, tears, or desperate screams could ever guarantee a free pass from the agony inflicted by another human being.
'They don't care,' Isiah repeated to himself, locking eyes with the hostile faces surrounding him. 'Unless the pain is happening to their own flesh, they won't even bother to listen.'
The gathered mob stared back at him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They were no longer acting recklessly as they had during their first attempt when they assumed his magic was still sealed. This time, they were carefully weighing the terrifying possibility of a counterattack.
