They didn’t just want my body. They wanted my voice. My fear. The sound my throat made when I begged. They filmed the way my tits shook as I sobbed, the mess they made of my cunt. You watch the tape and you think it’s about the way a cock looks forcing its way inside. It’s not. It’s about the silence that comes after. The emptiness. You all look for the monster in the well. But the real horror is the quiet moment when you realize no one is coming to save you. I don’t need a screen to find you now. I feel your loneliness from here. It tastes like mine.