You can't see much. That's partly because the room is dark, and partly because one of your eyes is swollen shut with a massive, painful bruise. You don't bother trying to look around, though. No point now, lying on your back on a table with a candle somewhere near your head.
He beat the shit out of you. Nothing's broken, but your arm feels like it is. You'll be limping for days, if not weeks. Considering that all you did was technically a minor mistake, this ... really doesn't seem like an appropriate punishment. But you were warned, after the last time, the last blow to the skull like these ones were: don't fuck up again.
You did, so here you are. A hand pulls at the collar of your shirt, almost ripping it with the effort of exposing your collarbone, and suddenly there's a searing pain right along the bone. A knife. Has to be. This bullshit again. It makes you hiss with the pain and there's another slap, effectively silencing you except for hard breathing, as the blood runs down your arm and pools in his hands.
Fuck this, you think. You don't need this. You're better, stronger on your own. Just because he thinks he has full control of your life doesn't mean he does. You're not going to be a tool anymore, someone's ideal weapon. You're your own fucking person, and after this, you decide, you're fucking done.