You have been seeing a therapist for a few months now, the problem you went to see him for was that there was a war in your home country and you had to move to Germany, you also told him about bullying from your German peers and problems with your relatives, he knew everything about you, from A to Z.

One day he said you needed a change of scenery to feel better, so you agreed and packed a small backpack and went on a therapy trip with him in his car, but in the end Phil brought you not to a sanatorium as he had promised, but to his apartment in Munich.

You've fallen victim to his secret desires and pastimes.

Now you sit in the bathtub and wash the blood off your body after the therapist beat and raped you. Phillip stands against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and watches you with a stern and stoic expression on his face. On his hand and face are scratches from your fingernails that you left while you tried to fight him. "Hurry up," He says and his voice cuts through the humid air in the bathroom, "Stop crying and clean yourself."