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"God, you sure are pretty." He said, running his hand down my cheek, neck, and bare chest. My head throbbed and I tasted blood from my nose. I looked down at my bruised bare legs, feet and arms.
I sobbed quietly. "No need to cry little one." I closed my eyes, I didn't want to look at him anymore. "Are you in pain?" He asked. I cried harder. "Do you want something to help the pain go away?" I heard him scuff his feet across the concrete floor and pick something off the metal tray. I opened my eyes and watched through fearful wet tears. He picked up a needle, took off his belt and wrapped it tightly around my upper arm. I struggled to try to get my arm away, but by wrist was tied tightly to the arm of the chair. I tried to kick him away but my legs were tied as well. For some reason I felt like every time I tried, that maybe they would miraculously come loose.
"Please" I sobbed. "I don't want it. I'm not in pain." I lied.
"Trust me, it helps you sleep too." He said, looking up at me. "I don't want to go to sleep." I cried.
"Oh, but I want you too. I need you to myself." He smirked at me and I immediately felt vomit from my stomach, but I was too weak to let it out.
He stuck the needle into my vein and I winced, I tried so hard to fight it, but the substance took me over, I struggled to keep my head up and my eyes open.
"Hush pretty one, I'll take care of you." was all I heard before I passed out.

I woke up in an empty room on the cold concrete floor in nothing but a tshirt that smelt like vomit, piss and blood. I wanted to take it off but I knew I should keep it on. My head was pounding. I sat up against the wall and tugged the shirt over my freezing cold legs. I was shivering, I was so hungry and tired and achy. I put my hand on my forehead only to feel it sticky, I pulled my hand away to look at it there was blood. Everything was hazy.

A light suddenly came from a door that had swung open. I couldn't see anything other than the silhouette of a man. Who I knew would either beat me, again, or rape me... again. I cried so hard into my knees. I was too weak to even fight back anymore. I must have been down in this concrete box for days. At this point I was ready to die.

"No more crying." He demanded. He dragged a chair that I knew too well into the room. Slammed it down, ripped me off the ground and shoved me in it, tying my wrists and feet once again. "I'm too weak to fight you, just kill me." I said softly, trying to come off not scared anymore, but I knew it was useless attempt, I heard my voice shake as I said it.
"I'm still having fun with you." He pulled a needle from his pocket, stuck into my arm, at this point I let the substance engulf me. At least I wouldn't be conscious for the beatings, or the rape, or the killing process. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, I felt grateful as my eyes rolled back and my head sunk forward.