[ WP ] you have been abducted and forcibly injected with herion until you are dependant on it . Then released into the world ...

It was just supposed to be a holiday. 
 
 The man grinned at me with his rotted teeth. He knew he had me. 
 
 I pulled the ratty blouse closer to me, trying to warm myself, squirming under his gaze. It was all I had to wear, that and the panties that I was wearing before I was taken. I felt so unclean. My wrists were still red and raw from being bound to the chair. I could n't even look at my vein without feeling nauseous. 
 
 Three weeks locked up in that scummy apartment. It must have been abandoned, there was nothing but a water kettle, a bucket for shitting and pissing, and a giant stack of ramen noodles. My only friends were rats and roaches. And the man with the rotted teeth. 
 
 He'd walk in, brandishing his gun. And then he'd hold his knife up to my throat and the gun up to my face, toying with me, until I sat on the chair. Then he'd bind me up, and pull out the syringe. 
 
 Fuck. For the first few days, I almost welcomed that relief, being able to just drop out from that hell. Just embrace sweet, euphoric oblivion. 
 
 Until it dawned on me what he was trying to do. 
 
 Now I could n't go without it. It felt like pins and needles all over, like little bugs crawling on my skin without it. He knew too. He was generous with the visits at first, and hit me hard with the dosage, several times a day, keeping me permanently in an opiated stupor. I have no doubt he must have raped me during this time. But the second week, he only came every other day. And now, on the third week, this was the first time I'd seen him, and the ramen noodles were nearly gone. He'd done this before. He knew *exactly* how much it took. 
 
 I ca n't really remember anymore how this happened. The last thing I remember was that club. That sketchy fucking club. The ones my friends told me not to go to. But fuck, they were so boring. Art museums all the damn time. I wanted to have fun. 
 
 I'm such a fucking idiot. I do n't even think I'm in the same city. 
 
 `` You're free to walk out that door'', he gestured. 
 
 `` But we both know what you're going to do'', he said, licking his lips. 
 
 I wonder how much I'd have to service him before he'd give me another hit. 
 
 I wonder how much until he's satisfied, and starts bringing in johns. 
 
 I guess I'll find out.
