Page 1 of I’m The Worst

My wrist is raw where the handcuff chafes, the skin broken and slick with blood. I welcome it as something else to focus on other than the throbbing ache between my thighs and the burning humiliation in my soul.

Time doesn’t exist here. There are no windows, no clocks. Just cement walls that press in and a bed I can’t escape. The men come and go, some brutal, others worse. I don’t know how many, and I’ve stopped counting.

Footsteps echo in the hall, growing louder. My breath quickens despite the drugs they force into me to dull everything—obedience in a syringe. But fear is stronger.

My door creaks open, and a guard steps in. His face is as blank as the walls, his eyes empty. Bitter sweat wafts from him, turning my stomach. Instinct screams at me to move, to shrink away, but the cuff anchors me to the bed.

“Tonight’s the night.”

I close my eyes and try to disappear into myself.

The cuff releases, and he grabs my arm, yanking me off the bed. My knees hit the floor hard, and a small yelp escapes.

He laughs. “That’s nothing. You’ll know pain soon enough.”

His fingers clamp tightly around my neck as he hauls me off the ground. A sharp twinge shoots through me as he increases the pressure, the collar puncturing my skin, forcing another pathetic sound from my lips.

He shoves me forward, and I stumble, the uneven concrete scraping beneath my bare feet. The hallway is dim, the stale air thick and suffocating. We turn a corner, and another guard waits outside a door. He doesn’t even glance at me, just steps aside and pushes me through.

My eyes sting as they adjust to the sudden brightness, a glaring contrast to the smothering darkness I’ve lived in. Blinking hard, I force the disorientation away. The room is small—just a vanity, a stool, and walls that feel too close.

“Put this on.”

The guard thrusts a sheer white robe into my hands. Its fabric is soft, almost delicate, but offers no real coverage. When it brushes against bruises and bite marks, I flinch at the sting. I don’t need a mirror to know what I look like; I can feel the damage every time I move.

“There’s a shower through there.”

He gestures toward a door. The scent of fresh water filters through the stale air.

“You’ve got ten minutes.”

His grip clamps around my face, the pressure digging into my cheekbones. “Don’t make us come in after you.”

Releasing me with another unnecessary shove, he leaves. My legs weakly carry me to the shower. The spray hits my skin, warm and almost soothing, and for a moment, I let myself imagine it’s just a normal day. A hotel bathroom. A night out with friends waiting on the other side.

But reality sinks in fast. Greece. I was taken in Greece. I’ve been there so many times, always safe, always sure of it—until I wasn’t.

I scrub my skin, trying to wash away the past weeks, but the bruises don’t fade, and the memories cling tighter. Ten minutes isn’t enough to erase anything.

The water shuts off too soon. I dry myself quickly, slipping into the robe. It clings uncomfortably to my damp skin, the soft fabric doing nothing to shield me from the chill or the dread building inside me. I don’t know why they’re letting me shower or giving me something clean to wear. It feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.

As soon as I open the door, the guard clamps his hand around my arm.

“Good girl.”

The last time he raped me was this morning—or maybe yesterday. I’ve stopped keeping track of time. It’s easier that way. He drags me down the hall, and a faint noise grows louder: music, laughter. My stomach churns.

We stop at a door. It swings open, and the sounds flood my senses, too bright and alive for the dread it carries. The room is large, lined with mirrors and vanities cluttered with makeup and brushes.

Women sit in front of them, surrounded by stylists. The air heavy with smells of perfume and hairspray. I don’t recognize any of them.

“Here’s the new one.”

The guard shoves me into a chair, and a woman stands in front of me, holding a brush.

“She’s worth a fortune. One of Akim’s favorites.”

The woman nods. “She’s a beauty.”