Amy

Gone

I was taken to a room, a lavishly decorated chamber with a large, ornate bed, a room that felt both luxurious and suffocating. The walls were covered in silk wallpaper, the furniture was heavy and gilded, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and decay. A woman with a cold, hard face and eyes like chips of ice entered the room. She introduced herself as Madame Evangeline, the owner of the house. Her voice was sharp and commanding, her words laced with a subtle threat.

She explained the rules of the house, the expectations, and the command sequences of disobedience. Her words were like a litany of horrors, a chilling catalog of the things I would be forced to endure. She spoke of "clients," of "pleasing them," of "obeying their every whim." Her words were like knives, cutting through my defenses, stripping me bare.

That first night was a nightmare, a descent into a world of darkness and depravity. I was taken to a room, a dimly lit chamber filled with the smell of sweat and cheap cologne. A man with a bloated face and eyes like a predator entered the room. His touch was rough, his breath hot and heavy on my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to disappear, trying to escape the reality of what was happening.

The pain was excruciating, a searing, burning agony that ripped through my body. But it was the emotional pain, the sense of violation, the feeling of being utterly and completely powerless, that was the most unbearable. I felt like I was being torn apart, my body, my mind, my soul, ripped into pieces.

Afterwards, I lay on the bed, my body aching, my mind numb. The room was silent, the o; there was no ticking of a clock on the wall. I stared at the ceiling, at the shadows dancing in the dim light, and I wondered if I would ever feel anything again if I would ever be whole again.

The scratching sound, the whisper of my name, seemed so far away, so distant, like a dream fading into the darkness. I felt lost, alone, adrift in a sea of despair. But eveamidof the darkness, a tiny spark of defiance flickered within me, a stubborn refusal to be extinguished. I would survive. I would endure. I would find a way to hold onto myself, to hold onto the fragments of my identity, to hold onto the hope that one day, I would escape this ninightmareitter Pill and the Empty Gaze