There was no one who could save me. I crept back into my room, waiting for my fate to unfold. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the bath, trying to cleanse myself of the dread that clung to me. I sobbed quietly, hugging my mother’s photo close, my only source of comfort. The water did little to soothe the ache inside.After what felt like an eternity, my father’s voice echoed through the house again.“Ava, come down here! Mr. Drake is here. He’s waiting for you!” he bellowed.Clutching my mother’s picture to my chest, I reluctantly left the room, shutting the door behind me as if that could lock away the horror.“Good evening, sir,” I greeted Mr. Drake, my voice barely above a whisper.Mr. Drake, a man in his forties, stepped forward. His eyes gleamed with a sickening hunger, and I immediately felt small under his gaze. He looked me over slowly, taking in every inch of me, and I fought the urge to shrink away.The way he inspected me made me feel exposed, vulnerable, as though I
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