I feel something heavy on top of me. As I gaze at an image of my broken body, a picture of me crying for help, I feel the warmth of a woman as she handles my body like it’s hers. It feels… good, but I can’t stop seeing the red flowing river that surrounds the image of my mutilated figure. What feels like a beautiful woman keeps riding me, and, when I’m not hard enough, I feel her curse and cut me to get me back up. I hear her start to climax, and then—
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My eyes flicker open to the image of Theoria having s*x with me while I’m half-conscious. I feel the effects of the rohypnol dragging me back down into a sleep from which it’s too hard to awaken. I want to get up, but I can’t. It feels like someone’s piled a hundred heavy stones on top of my body, and, while I try to move and escape,
