Lysha Raymond was brought up in a household of hatred.
Her father, Richard, was always mad. Her mother,
Ann, was an alcoholic because of it. Until her
father's death when she was twelve, Lysha was verbally
and physically abused by her father, right in front of
Ann. One of the worst tortures a mother could endure.
Since she was three, Lysha had been told that she
would never amount to anything. And ever since she
understood what he meant, she had the urge to prove
him wrong. Little did she know how much that urge
would affect her life, or the man she kept running
into again and again.
Lysha nodded her head. He swung his hand over her shoulder, leaving a red mark. Lysha tried to hold back tears. Richard had never been kind to her since the day she was born. Ann had always told Lysha that he was mad because she wasn't a boy. And as a result of this, Lysha had always felt it was her fault for not being a boy, and Ann thought his rage was a result of her not bearing him a son. Lysha turned to her mother for support, which often, Ann could not give. So she turned to alcohol. Lysha was only three when Richard started to beat her. She couldn't defend herself. Helpless among raging fury.