She complied as if in slow motion, her limbs felt like lead, dropping down lifeless against her body after she pulled her shirt off. He threw her clothes into a trash bag, and then handed her a rose scented bar of soap and stepped back. He pulled a large hose that had been looped over a hook on the wall and turned the knob all the way to the left. He pointed the nozzle at her and blasted her with cold water. The frigid temperature sucked the air out of her lungs, the force so strong that she slipped and landed on the ground. A sharp pain exploded in her tailbone, traveling all the way up her spine. Goosebumps covered every inch of her skin. She screamed.

‘Use the soap. You’re a dirty whore, and whores need to be cleaned!’ he screamed at her and then smiled. He’s enjoying this, she thought. He was taking pleasure in her drugged compliance, the shock of the water causing her discomfort, and the imbalance of power he alone controlled.

She began scrubbing her skin vigorously, the cold water clearing a bit of the hazy stupor she felt trapped in. Anytime she slowed down he blasted her with the hose again and screamed at her. It lasted about twenty minutes before he deemed her clean enough. Her skin was bright pink and felt raw, her eyes red and irritated. She shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. She’d never been this cold before and it felt like she would never get warm again. He grabbed a towel from a cabinet under the hose and threw it at her. Rachel quickly dried herself off. Then her captor walked toward her, ripped the towel from her trembling hand, and turned her around. She braced herself, clenching her jaw in anticipation of feeling him touch her exposed body, an impending assault that seemed inevitable. But it never came. Instead, he aggressively combed her short hair, yanking some out as he went. Rachel was crying and trembling. He pulled the comb away sharply, catching the top of her ear with the plastic teeth. She heard his footsteps retreating and turned around to see him rummaging in the cabinet again. She knew this may be her only opportunity to try and make a break for it while she wasn’t tethered to the wall. But he was so large and muscular, and while she was feeling more alert from the water, she was still weak and slow from whatever drug he’d injected. She remained where she was, knowing she didn’t really stand a chance. He pulled out a patterned dress, turning around and approaching her again.

‘Raise your arms.’

She obeyed. He pulled the dress down over her extended arms and body and stepped back to admire his work, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles along the front of her stomach. She cringed, feeling sick at his touch.

‘Button it up.’