Is this written believably?
Peering first through the window to check if the room was clear, Penelope snuck inside. She tiptoed down the hall and locked herself inside the bathroom. She turned on the taps to run a bath. The room began to fill with smoke and the sound of running water. Now that she was sure no one would hear her, she crumpled to the floor and began to cry. Her whole body shook with every sob. She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face in her hands. Then she remembered the bath, which was nearly overflowing and leant over to turn it off. She dragged herself across the floor, her limbs flaring up with the pain of his abuse. Gripping the edge of the bathroom sink, she pulled herself up. She met her eyes in the mirror and saw her cheek was a deep purple bruise. She blinked back more tears which threatened to overflow much like the bath. She tugged off her dress, wincing as it caught the cuts and bruises that plagued her body. Standing in front of the mirror in her cotton undies her twelve-year-old body was barely recognizable under the absurd colouring her father’s beatings had left her with. She had a young girl’s figure and a child’s knobbly knees but her face and body showed more pain than adults five times her age had seen. Turning away from the ugly image before her she crossed the room and sunk into the bath. The warm water stung but soon offered relief. She sat there for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes, staring at the bright white-tiled wall in front of her. Everything in the bathroom was so neat and tidy. Everything had its place, from the soap to the handtowel. You never would have guessed the owner of this bathroom was so out of control.