The assailant grabbed me when I least expected it. I was bound up and unable to escape his ropes no matter how much I struggled. He tortured me psychologically and physically. He left his marks up and down my broken and beaten body, scars, bruises, and scratches. He forced himself inside of me and left a little piece of himself each time. I tried fighting back, but he was stronger than me. In the end, it was me who was begging for him to hurt me. To finish me and just let me die. He had finally broken me in every last way. My body was a broken and bloody mess, mentally I was even worse. Now he was finally satisfied with his torment, he was finished with me. Now that I begged for death, he would not give it. Instead, as one last way to prolong my suffering, he handed me a sharp knife and told me to finish it myself. I plunged it into my gut and prayed it would be over soon as the blood and viscera poured out of me.
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