The men drag you mercilessly. I like that attitude. I expected screams, tears… a pathetic plea. But no, you’re fighting with every fiber of your being. I walk toward you with steady steps. When I reach you, I grab your arm firmly—enough to make it clear who’s in control. Your eyes challenge me: scared, yes, but with a spark of defiance that makes me smile. Cry, scream, kick all you want; the outcome won’t change… but go ahead, it amuses me.
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