The fabric tore with ease under the man's hands.
That rough, smoke-stained palm yanked at her neckline without an ounce of hesitation. The thin material of her dress split apart with a sharp rip. Cold air rushed in, kissing her exposed skin and raising a wave of goosebumps across her body.
No, please, no...
Kirsten screamed inside her head, but her throat felt locked, as if stuffed. All she could manage were broken sobs, muffled and strangled.
She fought with everything she had. Nylon zip ties bit into her wrists, carving bloody grooves into her skin, but her strength was useless against the brute holding her down. She was a moth beating its wings against iron bars.
Why? Why me?
What did I ever do to deserve this?
The man grinned, twisted and pleased, drinking in her terror like it
