You've already lost, Jonathan

The room was dark, with shadows cast long and foreboding by the single dim light that flickered weakly. The heavy scent of sweat and stale cigars hung in the air, mingling with the sickeningly sweet aroma of cheap cologne. The door creaked open, and Jonathan and his five men stepped out, leaving Amethyst behind.

Amethyst lay on the cold, hard floor, her body aching and bruised, every inch of her feeling violated. Her clothes were torn and scattered, a silent testament to the brutality she had endured. She tried to move, but her limbs felt like lead, weighed down by an overwhelming sense of shame and disgust.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, her vision blurred by tears she refused to shed. Inside, she was crumbling, her mind a whirlwind of self-recrimination and despair.

"Why?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Why did I let this happen?"

Memories of her training, of her strength and resilience, flashed through her mind. She had always been so strong and unyie