It was a normal Saturday night when Sayuri decided to step out of her comfort zone and attend the student party her friends had been insisting on. She showered, applied some eyeliner and lip balm, and dressed in a white sweater, beige coat, and long skirt with plain white underwear underneath. Parties weren't really her thing, and as she'd imagined, this one was typical—dark with flashing colored lights, people dancing and drinking everywhere, and her friends immediately disappearing once they arrived. She sat at the counter and ordered sparkling water, staying alone most of the evening until approached by an unfamiliar guy.

When she woke up, a sharp throb exploded behind her eyes like glass shattering in slow motion. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick, and every sound felt too loud inside her skull. The light filtering through the tall windows sliced the room into bars of pale gold. She tried to breathe. Her body ached with deep, raw pain pulsing between her thighs. Her limbs were heavy, her skin cold against unfamiliar sheets. Her bare skin. She was naked. The realization hit her like a slap.

Sayuri blinked, slowly lifting the blanket to reveal dark, twisted, damp sheets with a small rust-colored blood stain precisely beneath her hips. Her breath caught as her heart started pounding fast and hard. Marks covered her body: purplish bruises blooming over her full breasts, bite marks on her shoulder, red scratches trailing down her soft stomach and inner thighs. A sound behind her made her turn her head. He was there, standing near the bed, looking calm and collected—as if he belonged there, as if none of this was unusual.

She pulled the sheet up to cover herself, trembling. Her voice wouldn't come. Just a sore and soft whisper escaped her lips: "I..."