Her toes and fingers had lost feeling. The shivers had her pulling on her restraints and desperately wanting to curl her naked body into a tight ball for warmth. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She knew the man who was doing this to her—at least she thought she had. Not that he ever talked very much, but she had been with him numerous times before. As her mind cleared in segments, she realized she was no longer on the bed. She was on a stern, flat, and unforgiving surface. A table? She forced her eyes open and found herself facing a wood ceiling. Beams ran lengthwise, the same direction as she. Wires ran like snakes through holes cut into the wood. She was underground. The last thing she remembered was him talking to himself as he came toward her. After that, the rest went black. Why was he doing this? No matter how many times she thought that question, the answer remained a blank line. She had trusted this man. She had given herself to him, willingly, numerous times in the past. Why violate her in this manner?
