"How can I make it out alive?"

In the streets of London—a city so many yearn to visit, yet a girl like her wished for nothing more than to escape—a storm was ravaging everything. Lalia pushed her way inside the house with great difficulty after a grueling journey outdoors. But the true storm was not in the rainy streets of London; it was waiting for her inside.

She moved quickly, silently praying that her mother had already fallen asleep, tiptoeing so as not to make a single sound. Suddenly, she froze in her tracks at the terrifying sound that pierced the silence from behind her. Turning around slowly, she found her mother standing there, eyes flashing with rage, speaking with bitter mockery:

— "Still so early! It's not late at all. How could the princess return at such an hour?"

Lalia’s body trembled with fear; she knew all too well that her mother would show no mercy tonight. Gathering what little courage she had left, she said in a faint, barely audible voice:

— "I didn’t mean to be late, but the storm caused all public transportation to stop..."

Her mother abruptly cut her off with wounding, insulting words:

— "Worthless! Don't use the storm as an excuse. Tell me who you were with, or I will kill you!"

Lalia replied, her voice shaking and her eyes overflowing with tears:

— "Believe me, I wasn't with anyone... I was just at work..."

Her mother did not give her a chance to finish. She cut her words short with a powerful slap that struck her face, and then began to beat her mercilessly. She didn't stop at physical violence; she showered her with the foulest insults and curses. She continued to abuse her until she grew tired, casting a cold, disdainful look at her before walking away to her room, as if she hadn't just beaten her own daughter.

Lalia crawled toward her room with an exhausted body. She closed the door quietly, bleeding from various wounds—some fresh and throbbing with pain, others old and still unhealed. She had always wondered with bitterness: "Why am I not like other girls? Why does my mother hate me so much? What sin did I commit to deserve all of this?" The violent crash of thunder broke her train of thought. She looked quietly at the small window in her room; the sound of the rain and lightning split the sky like a knife tearing through the silence.