A Stripper's Lost Memories

"Don't tell me what to do, you're nothing," he scolded before pushing her towards the bed. He had not taken the fact that she had drank alcohol, and she could not keep her balance. She tripped on her own feet, and her face hit the bed furniture at full force. She fell to the ground, feeling blood trickling between her teeth; her lip had busted open from that fall. She gripped into the sheets, feeling more tears begin leaking from her eyes; even if she was a filthy stripper, did she honestly deserve this sort of treatment?

"Get on the bed," he ordered, grabbing her hair and throwing her into the bed. She winced, feeling too weak to try to fight back. He crawled on top of her, his hair falling on either sides of his face and almost touching her face as she stared into his monstrous eyes. "Tonight is the night," he brought his hand to his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife as it shined with a sharp blade, "That you will never forget."

And as he had declared, she had never forgotten that night.