The young woman waited, and waited some more, for it was the only thing she could do. She told herself that it will be over soon, that she had to bear with it just a little longer. She couldn't break down now, not when her father's watching her.

Not when her father's listening to her.

Not when he was the one beating her up.

She could feel his every kick, the pain resonating throughout her entire body, countless and countless of times. When she bother to check, they usually range for 20 to 30 minutes, but the cuts and bruises can last for days. She was already running out of long sleeve t-shirts and foundation. How could she conceal it after?

It wasn't just kicks that her father does to her. Sometimes it was punches. There were days where he would lock her in her room and shout out every word of his colourful language, which hurt just as much as his kicks. Her worst experience was when he grabbed his belt and whipped her till the top layer of her skin burst and warm blood flowed out of the wounds. He didn't stop even after seeing that, finding joy in his daughter's cries and blood, thus sending even more angry marks down her arms, legs and back. Hyorin was only seven then.

A couple of you might be wondering why Hyorin never bothered to find help, that she would agonisingly bear all this suffering, even up to a ripe age of 16. It was simple, really. Her parent divorced when she was just five years old. That was when her father, either in anger and depression or the fact that Hyorin looked so much like her mom, started to abuse her. She was only thankful that he never did anything worse than that.

She remembered the first time he had beaten her, how much she had cried as he slapped her face and called her stupid and worthless. Every day the abuse becomes stronger and more painful. Hyorin sometimes would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming in fear as her own dreams reflected the pain that her father gave her, or might have. Those nightmares were always less scary than her real life father though.

Even though sticking with her father was unbearable, Hyorin, who was already motherless, didn't want to become fatherless as well. She knew that the authorities will definitely take her away from her father, and she will be left in the care of an orphanage. Knowing from Ailee's experience, it didn't sound all that pleasant. So Hyorin choose to keep everything a secret. At least she wasn't in school anymore, as education became unaffordable with the rising costs of food, and nobody will bully her for having no mother.

Every day became a routine. Wake up, do housework, endure his abuse, sleep, repeat. Hyorin had to teach herself how to cook and clean since her parents broke up, and her father was too upset to. She used to envy other children whenever she bought vegetables from the supermarket in the morning. They will be running around and playing in the playgrounds, eating sweets when she hadn't tasted one for years. Soon the jealousy turned into grief, the moment their parents come and the kids will run straight into their arms in pure glee. She wished she could do that again, just one more time, and stretch that memory to the stars and beyond.

The pain started to subside as the rhythmic hits against her side stopped. The old man scoffed and went out of the room, leaving the young girl to pick herself up from the floor. But Hyorin didn't. She stayed on the ground, still crouched in the assuring fetal position she adopted to make her feel safe. She pressed her cheek against the cold and slightly wet floor, believing that it might serve as a distraction to her sores. Exhausted,  she closed her eyes, and for the first time in her entire 16 years of life, she hoped.

She hoped for her own slice of heaven.

She hoped for change.