In the private sitting room invisible to others, Yin Mo lay disheveled on the large bed, her mostly-covered body only partly concealed by the rolled-up duvet. The exposed arm outside the blanket was covered in a mix of green and purple bruises, a testament to the brutal abuse she had endured.
Hearing the sounds of struggle between two men from outside the bedroom, she mustered her strength to sit up, too dry-eyed to cry, her pale lips stained with fresh blood, the result of biting herself when she couldn't endure any more.
Her once delicately gorgeous face was now alarmingly pale. Catching her breath, she slowly moved off the bed, bent down to pick up pieces of torn clothing from the floor to barely cover her body, and then walked out with her hair disheveled.
The room looked as if it had been hit by a tornado, everything in disarray.
