"But it's too soon," Simone insisted. "He is not ready. I cannot make him do this."

Two men sat in the darkness of the basement, the morning light catching only Simone in its accusatory veil of ambiguity. One man smoked a long brown cigarette. The smoke curled into fingers that clutched Simone's throat, wiped fingers down her cheek that burned fingerprints into her jaw.

"You need to," the other man said. "He's either got to agree to what we have you ask him to do, or both of you will be taken."

Simone felt the smoke penetrate her like a man's penis but continuing to rape its path all the way to her heart.