Quiet resistance to tyranny never worked for anyone. Especially her. She had taken the verbal hatred for nearly two years. It didn't anger her so much as chip away at her idea of fortitude, her ideal self. She had a specific idea of what she expected from this skin and bone and blood that made her. It was to be lean and efficient; intelligent and kind. But the daily neglect or words of duplicitous kindness, two faced agression, took a piece with them with each syllable. Soon she didn't notice the whip cutting and waited for the violence to grow tired of it's exertion and stop.