Q sighed, the tinge of anger-sadness creeping back into his voice. “We’re running out of time.” He pressed his finger deeper, urging my body to melt and swell. “There’s so much I want to say to you.” His arm imprisoned my lower back, jerking me closer while his finger thrust upward. His heat undid me all while more black droplets stained my mind.

It’s taking me.

Q kissed my cheek, flexing his finger in the perfect way. “Tell me why we’re doing this.” His tone wasn’t a demand, more like a beg. He needed to be reminded himself. He sounded scared….lost. “Talk to me, or I’ll stop.”

I could barely remember how to speak; my mind spinning and dipping with every new droplet. “To turn my lies into truth,” I moaned, bowing in his arms as his finger moved harder, turning dampness into wetness. “You’re going to fix me…”

The blindfold stole my sight, amplifying my awareness of the drug-induced mania building inside.

“I trust you, Q. I—I want you.”

He chuckled, hiding the lace of pain. “You want me? You want this?” He drove his finger deeper, his knuckles connecting with sensitive flesh.

My pu**y rippled, sending a wave of sensation into my lower belly.

My head fell back even as a torrent of black liquid and fog filled my mind. I wanted to stay in his arms forever. I wanted to never let go of the tingling erotic pleasure.

I wanted more. More, more, more.

“Yes—”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“You want more, pretty girl? Beg.”

I gasped, fisting my hands, tugging on binds hanging me from the ceiling. No!

“Keep talking and I’ll make you come. I’ll give you a release,” Q whispered, slowly penetrating me with another finger.

My mind had taken over, contaminated with whatever he’d given me. My body switched from hot and needy to fearful and cold.

White Man flickered in and out like a faulty hologram. “You want it? Beg. You know you’ll beg eventually.”

“Please—not again.” Pincers weighed down my mind, dragging me deeper into the inky puddle residing in my brain.

I wanted nothing more than to cling to his hard form. I didn’t want to be lost again. I didn’t want to spiral into fog.

Squeezing my eyes, I tried to claw my way back to reality.

Q held me tight. “Let go. Don’t fight.” His two fingers stroked my inner walls, stretching me, keeping me tethered to a hypersensitive body. The coax was dangerous—fooling me into thinking I wouldn’t suffer if I surrendered. I would suffer.

I shuddered, flushing with a wave of desire even as I swam upstream in a river of blackness.

Leather Jacket appeared, hazy and unformed, his foul lips twisting into a grin. Waiting—waiting for me to be washed into his torture once again.

“Q—I don’t want to. Please. Don’t let them take me.”

“It’s okay. Trust me.” His touch no longer had the power to keep me sane, every passing heartbeat dampened the desire in my blood, favouring brittle panic instead.

Ropes around my wrists. Blindfold on my eyes. I was helpless. I can’t do this. Swaying forward, I found Q’s neck, latching onto his slightly salty skin. I bit. Hard.

Q jerked, his fingers twitching inside me. “Tess...” he growled. “Stop fighting.”

“You like it rough, don’t you, pretty girl. We’ll sell you to an owner who will look after you.”

No. I would never stop fighting them. Not after what they made me do. Made me become.

But no matter how hard I clambered to stay coherent I slid down and down, deeper and deeper.

Q groaned, his fingers diving harder. Now there were no lust sparkles or pleasure, now all I felt were bullets of shame. My h*ps spasmed backward, dislodging Q's touch. I couldn’t do it anymore. His fingers fell away, leaving me empty and all alone.

I can’t fight it.

My heart went sluggish, a curtain of drugs falling over me.

“Tess…” Q’s voice lost its perfect baritone, morphing into my enemy. “I need to know the truth—why did you sacrifice yourself? Why did you let me almost rape you?” French accent traded for Spanish, and Leather Jacket swirled into being.

No longer hazy or unformed—every inch of him was real. The blindfold didn’t keep images out anymore. I saw him plain as truth. His yellow-stained teeth and creaking, reeking jacket. His greasy black hair and dirty fingernails.

“Did you like my fingers inside you, puta?” Leather Jacket sneered.

Q. God, please let me wakeup. This couldn’t be real.

I licked my lips, invoking courage I no longer had. “Let me go.”

He shook his head. “Not until you answer me.”

Tell him. Tell him before he hurts them!

Honesty exploded up my throat, not answering Leather Jacket—but Q. The admission was for him even though he no longer existed. “I wanted to make you happy. I’d gladly give you my life to do that.”

Q suddenly appeared, smashing through the putridity, standing tall. “What do you mean?”

Wanting to answer before I was stolen away again, I said, “I would die for you, Q. That’s what that means. All this talk of belonging to each other—well, you truly do own me. I would gladly give up my life if it meant you’d be happy.”

Q disappeared again, replaced by Leather Jacket. His hand came from nowhere, spanking my thigh with a wicked hot strike. Burning tears flocked to my eyes.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Did you like my fingers inside you, puta?” he asked. His voice smooth and coaxing but beneath it lived a layer of deadly steel.

I hiccupped with building tears. What’s going on?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The ink completely stole my mind.

Then guilt crushed heavily. Blonde Hummingbird and Angel.

Their silhouettes appeared, bloody and bullet-ridden.

“If you won’t answer my other question, perhaps you’ll answer this. Did you enjoy hurting them? Did you enjoy murder?” Leather Jacket threw his head back, laughing. The sound cut right through me, dredging up everything I wanted to forget.

My tower stood taller, knowing I would have no choice but to step inside its circular walls if I wanted to survive.

I couldn’t live in this limbo anymore. I couldn’t live with these lies, these fears—this guilt.