Friday night, 02:00 in the morning.
The last of the patrons who had dragged her out of the bar and carried her into the nearby field had finally rolled off her, spit in her face one last time and stumbled away drunkenly to find his car. She didn’t catch whatever insult her slurred as he walked away.
Time for her to collect what tatters remained of her pants, wipe the worst of the filth off her body and to see if her jaw was broken or just incredibly sore from that backhand she’d received when she refused to open her mouth for the second or third guy…
And next week? Next week she’ll go back to the same bar, hoping again to find someone to own her to maybe end this cycle of being rapemeat for anyone who chose to use her as such whenever they chose to do so.