Amelia
The pain was her normal.
Not the stub your toe on the end of your bed in the dark or even the paper cut kind of pain.
No, the pain Amelia was used to was the broken wrist bruised ribs kind.
She often compared her body to a punching bag, and the pain was just her penance for being born.
When she was a little girl, she pictured a Prince on a white horse riding up and battling her Stepfather Mark to free her from her tower of terror.
She dreamed that her Prince would come and take her far away to a place where he would love and protect her for the rest of her life.
As she got older and wiser she understood that white knights didn't exist and a Prince's life could be just as hellish as the next guys maybe even more so.
Amelia realized the only way she would ever get out from under Marks beatings was to run away.
Amelia was not an idiot though she understood that she would have to graduate before she could run.
That way she had a diploma and at eighteen she was legally an adult.
As an adult, if Mark ever found her he couldn't make her return
When she escaped this earthly form of hell she was never coming back, at least not alive.