Where… What…?” My mouth feels furry, like I’ve been drinking heavily and not had enough water. I lift my head and try to move, but I feel funny. I’m… sitting. I test my limbs, but my arms won’t move. Panic clears through my foggy head, and I jerk my arms, still unable to move them. I can’t tell where I am or what’s going on. My heart pounds, flooding my body with adrenaline.

“You’re awake.”

“Quinn? What… what’s going on?” I can’t see him in the darkness, only hear his smooth voice.

“Debts are going on, dirty girl. Jenny wasn’t prepared to pay up. She obviously thought you would. One hundred grand is a larger debt than one night of fucking.”

His words bring back memories of last night and what I let him do to me. God, I can still feel him between my thighs. I’m tender from his treatment of me.

“A hundred thousand pounds?” I focus on the alarms sounding in my head and shove my memories away. My heart beats wildly in my chest as my mind plays catch up. How could Jenny owe that much? “I don’t understand. Jenny asked me for money. I loaned her five thousand pounds. She said she needed it for her flat.”

All my senses start waking up, but I still can’t make out anything in the gloom. I shift my body and find I can widen my knees and move my legs, but my wrists and elbows are restrained.

“Innocence lost, huh? Your friend,” he says, disdain in his voice, “has screwed me over for a hundred thousand pounds. Spent it all on drugs and gambling. Shifty’s little weakness has caused you some problems.”

“Jenny doesn’t have that kind of money, and neither do I.” Panic heats my body as I start to realise just what a mess I’ve walked into.

“No. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get what’s owed. We started last night. You spread those legs willingly enough, gave up that pussy without any real hesitation. You couldn’t get enough, could you?”

His finger runs down the side of my face, and I flinch at the contact. I didn’t hear him cross the room or notice his voice growing closer.

“The next time I come in you, I won’t be so gentle.” His hot breath tickles my cheek, and I feel the sting of tears as I grit my teeth together. “No one can hear you scream in here, dirty girl.” I hold my breath and try to keep all the fear and panic locked inside, ignoring the crude remarks. I listen for Quinn, but I don’t hear or feel him again until the sound of the door slams shut.

I wait.

I wait and hold it in, refusing to give in to the utter hysteria clawing up from the pit of my stomach and invading every single cell in my body.

A small blub slips past my lips, and it echoes around me. One soon turns to two, and the next thing I hear is my inconsolable howl into the darkness. I scream and shout as hot tears stream down my face.

It’s over as soon as it began. The rush of anger gives way to fear, and I quieten quickly. My blubbers turn to hums as I try to cling to some comfort. I pull my legs up to my chest and move to wrap my arms around them, but I can’t. My arms are held fast. My legs drop back to the floor in defeat.

How can anyone do this? Kidnapping isn’t something that happens in my world. I take photographs of families and babies. I can’t be mixed up in some revenge plot to collect on an unsettled debt. Quinn sounded like some kind of monster. I tick over the information he gave me. It turns my stomach, souring any memory I have of him.

But his touch is still on my skin. I can feel his fingers digging into my hips as he held me to him. He took me so completely, forced me to let go. I’ve never felt so alive or free. Sex has never been like that before—raw and passionate and desperate. Quinn gave that to me. He unlocked something within me that I’d never dreamed of, something so completely satisfying that my body is struggling to adjust to the situation I’m in now.

The hot tears coat my cheeks and I hate that I can’t brush them away. I need to get a grip and try to see things for what they really are. Quinn isn’t what he made out. After he fucked me senseless, he was gentle with me. He was insatiable. With my inhibitions destroyed, he set about taking his time over my body.

His hot mouth worked at my breasts until he was hard again. He bit and sucked at my nipples until I thought I’d come from that alone. He knew what he was doing. We were having fun, or so I thought. He fucked me again. Draped my legs over his forearms while he hammered into me. And I got off on watching his toned body dominate me, taking me like no one else has. His fingers played me so well I didn’t even realise I was doing everything he asked until I’d done it.

I saw the danger. That split decision to stay at the table or flee. I should have listened to my intuition.

The inky darkness plays tricks on my mind. No matter how many times I blink, the black doesn’t clear. My vision hasn’t returned. Not even a pinprick of illumination as I close and open my eyes in an attempt to focus on something. Anything.

My stomach aches, and a tight gripe sends a spasm of emptiness through me. I feel hollow. And my mind wants to add to this nightmare by replaying last night over and over. I can still feel him. His touch, his tongue, his lips. They’re seared into my skin, my body accepting the contact and committing it to memory, easy to recall.

Except I don’t want to now. I don’t want the memories of us. I don’t want to feel the breathless lust that stirred in me. For the first time in my life, I felt utterly desired. Worshipped. But it was fake. False.

How can any of it be more than a lure as I’m now sitting alone in a black room? I close my eyes, seeking comfort from the simple act. But there is no comfort. Quinn’s face, his charming smile haunts my vision. That dangerous smile that set off some internal warning that I gave no heed to.

Instinct has developed over thousands of years, honing us to threat, yet I ignored it because of a pretty face and orgasms.

Shame douses me, chilling me to the core. It gnaws at my gut, adding to the hunger pangs. My bladder starts to swell, adding to my discomfort. The pressure bears down, making my stomach feel impossibly bloated, ready to pop.

I ignore it. I ignore it all. I block my mind and picture my song sheets in front of me. I see the complex assortment of notes on the page and try to remember the sounds they make.

But the noise I hear doesn’t match the notes in my mind. It’s the mystery song that has been playing through my head since last week. I squeeze my eyes shut and hum the notes—stringing them together as if I have to finish the composition myself. My voice grows stronger, and notes merge into words as I fill the emptiness with song.

“Will you let me see the dawn? Will you let me see the sea? I can see your light. Won’t you let me be?” The words echo around the room as I repeat the lines.

Minutes pass, I assume minutes, before the words dry up and the tune dies. My head drops forward, suddenly feeling too heavy to hold upright. My cheeks are damp from tears I didn’t realise I’d cried. I sniff. It’s undignified, but in this situation, it doesn’t matter. My tongue sweeps out to moisten my lips, but it sticks to them they’re so dry. They feel cracked and chapped, and it highlights the thirst now scratching my throat. My stomach floods with pain as I shift on the chair. It awakens the throbbing from my bladder. I press my thighs together in a vain attempt to stifle the need to go to the bathroom.

What’s Jenny doing right now? Is she worried about me? Will she have even given me a passing thought? Looking back, it’s so obvious. She knew she was sending me into the lion’s den. She knew she couldn’t go to that meeting, and my heart splits a little more as I wrap my mind around her betrayal.

Nausea rolls in my stomach knowing she sent me in her place. I feel sick, and saliva pools in my mouth. I lock my teeth together fighting against the inevitable, but I can’t. My stomach convulses, and I lean to the side of the chair as I vomit. The acid burns my dry throat, and I spit, trying to rid my mouth of the vile taste. I can feel the strings of spittle still clinging to my lips. I puff and blow and spit before I give in and lick my lips. The tang is bitter.

What I’d give for a glass of water.

I banish the thought from my mind, as if Quinn might hear and test how far I’ll go for a sip to quench my thirst and cleanse my dirty mouth. Thinking his name brings the images back. The vision of his handsome face and his smile haunts me as I catalogue everything I let him do to me. My stomach rolls again, but I swallow and let my head fall back to stare at the ceiling. I can’t make out any of the details but pretend I can see ceiling tiles or poor artexing. Anything to take my mind off my body and the situation I’m in.

I can’t work out the time. I feel tired. Bone dead tired. But I have no reference for day or night. All I can tell is that my bladder is ready to burst and I don’t think Quinn’s going to simply open the door and let me go home.

I cross my legs and squeeze my thighs. The pressure in my stomach is astonishing. At least the need to go to the bathroom is something to think about other than my stupid behaviour. I must have dozed off at some point. My neck feels funny like I’ve rested in the wrong position for too long. I twist my wrists in their binds, but they haven’t miraculously come loose. The rope still bites into my skin and rubs it raw if I move too much.

“Quinn!” I scream into the pitch blackness. “Quinn!” I listen, but there’s no answer. No movement. I’m so desperate to go to the bathroom I’d rather face him than be left alone down here.

Light floods into the room and I have to squint to focus on what it is. A large television screen flickers to life in front of me, casting the room in a dull gloom. The shock is enough for me to forget the concentration I need to hold my bladder. Heat seeps out from where I sit. The humiliating sound of liquid dribbling off the chair and onto the floor fills the room.

I choke on a sob as I realise what I’ve done, but can’t stop it. For the first time in what feels like hours, I can relax. The acrid smell of urine wafts around me, and I’m disgusted with myself. I’m suddenly back in primary school where the toilets always smelt of wee. If I could crawl up into a ball and hide, I would. How could I have done this? I sob quietly with a mixture of shame and relief. At least the pressure has dissipated from my bladder, and I feel like I can breathe again.

The respite is only temporary. The screen that shocked me now comes to life, a dark image on the camera. Black and white. A woman, in a similar position to me. I turn my head and look around the room to see if this is some sick video feed of me. There’s not enough light to see into the corners of the room, but the woman on the screen hasn’t moved.

I stare at the screen and watch two other figures enter. Both prowl around the woman as if they’re summing her up. I flush in panic as I realise that this isn’t something I’m going to want to watch.

One of the men stops in front of her and begins to undo his trousers. The other man stands behind the woman and forces her head down to take what the first man is offering. The volume on the tape picks up, and I can hear her protests, her body lashing out as best she can as she’s forced to comply.

I turn away, trying to look at anything but the screen and the deeds I’m being subjected to. Is this what my fate will be? My eyes flick back to the screen as the man’s dirty groans of pleasure begin to sound out of the speakers. He’s getting off on what he’s doing to her, the other man offering encouragement and support.

Two more men enter the frame and immediately untie the girl. She thrashes around as she’s handled to her feet. One of the men, the biggest, grabs her and slams her up against a wall at the far side of the screen. He rips her clothes from her. Screams and pleas ring out loudly from the woman.

He’s going to rape her. But all I can think about is how forcefully the man’s handling her. It’s how Quinn handled me. It’s part of the reason I lost my fucking mind to lust and forgot my rational sense. The control. The force. I got off on it.

My eyes blur as I watch the woman being jerked about by the man. Her cries for him to stop are ignored, and I can see him forcing himself on her.

I begin to cry. I didn’t think I had any tears left, but seeing this play out is sick. How I feel about it is sick. I fidget and try to position myself away from it. The tune I’ve been humming comes to my mind, and I grab hold of it in my mind and sing it as loudly as I can, competing with the screams and laughter that play out in front of me.

I want to close my eyes. I want to shut off the world I’ve found myself in and pretend this is just a nightmare. That I’ll wake up and I’ll be in Quinn’s bed in his hotel and he’ll be as charming as he was during dinner and when I slept with him.

It’s a ridiculous fantasy. The humming from my voice dies down and makes way for more gasps and groans from the footage. The woman is now on her knees being taken from behind and being held by two others, with the last man forcing his dick into her mouth. It’s vile. But I can’t turn my head. I can’t look away before my eyes sneak back to the screen.

I want it to stop, but it plays on. The woman is continually violated. She’s passed around the men like a piece of meat. The fight has left her limbs. She no longer struggles, like a part of her has accepted her fate. The men don’t give up and fuck her again and again, taking turns, and sometimes raping her together.

I bow my head and cry, imagining the fear and disgust the woman must be going through until the noises quieten. My notes build in my chest, and I force them out, drowning out the last pleas. The light from the screen highlights the vomit and urine on the floor around my chair, and despair engulfs me.