I watched the woman grovel at the feet of her captor, my stomach churned.
Her hands trembling as her hands rose to give the bastard a drink.
His laughter hurt my broken ribs.
Her movements were stilted, and I saw a blue-green bruise on her cheek.
He kicked at her hands.
She let him kick her.
The vulture above her seemed to love her obsequious actions.
My refusal to bend to his will is why I lay dying on the ground, beaten and raped.
She is terrified that my fate will be hers.
He pulled her up and his rough lips slammed into hers.
My ghost and the ghosts of the other dead watch the events again and again.
Finally, one brave woman puts a knife in his gut.
Our revenge is sweet.
We drag him to the devil.