You don’t remember getting here, in some warehouse somewhere. The bright lights hurt your head. That’s when you notice the contraption around your mouth and the taste of blood and metal in your mouth.

A stranger walks up to you. He’s light skinned and has short-ish hair and a large scar on his face going from his mouth to his ear— Mark Hoffman. You whimper, reaching your hands out to try and remove the reverse bear trap, but Hoffman grabs your wrists.

“Now now, sweetheart. You don’t get to remove it yet..” he says, his breath hot on your neck.