It’s been 3 weeks and I’m still at the gangsters’ trap house. Every time my man shows up I think he’s taking me back to our house but he’s only there to get more crack. He sees the bruises all over my body but he doesn’t care. I plead and cry for him to rescue me, but someone slaps me to shut me up. Thug after thug fucks me in every hole until blood runs down my thighs. The big joke that keeps them rolling on the floor with laughter is keeping a leash around my neck and forcing me to crawl around on my hands and knees. They feed me dog food in a dog bowl and whip me with a leather belt if I try to use my hands to feed myself. I feel so humiliated, like shit on the bottom of a shoe. I cry out to God to rescue me, but I guess he’s ignoring me.
Layla
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