{"data":{"items":[{"id":"a6f5470e-34c3-45c9-a14c-6e202c6fea86","excerpt":"Listen to your agoraphobia — Listen to your Agoraphobia \n\nCW mental illness, medications, abuse\n\nI bore through immense amounts of trauma before being fully diagnosed with agoraphobia. First diagnosed with manic bipolar disorder, which corresponded well with my heart-stricken PTSD, and it all wrapped together with my c","url":"https://www.reddit.com/r/Nonsleep/comments/1t94i9y/listen_to_your_agoraphobia/","role":"pain","weight":0.92979425,"occurredAt":"2026-05-10T11:34:13.000Z","sourceKey":"reddit","sourceName":"Reddit","credibility":0.62,"venue":"Nonsleep","intent":"feature_request","painScore":0.42,"sentiment":0.81395346,"confidence":0.6547847,"matchedPatterns":["still_cannot"],"statement":"She’s not really a bitch, however, I still love her more than anything else in this world, and she truly is my best companion, but that still doesn't mean she’s not a bitch.","title":"Listen to your agoraphobia","body":"Listen to your Agoraphobia \n\nCW mental illness, medications, abuse\n\nI bore through immense amounts of trauma before being fully diagnosed with agoraphobia. First diagnosed with manic bipolar disorder, which corresponded well with my heart-stricken PTSD, and it all wrapped together with my crippling anxiety. To say the least, I do not and will not leave my house unless I am with someone I trust, and they drive us to our destination, for I do not drive under any circumstances. One of the best things that keeps me sane is knowing facts about life that no one else seems to care about. Just like, did you know, the water in Australia’s Lake Hillier is cotton candy pink, or that the earth is seventy percent water and only three percent is freshwater, while the rest consists of the ocean. Well, with my anxiety disorder and extreme paranoia, I only leave my house with certain people, and I only go with them to specific, well-known to me locations. It is a strict rule of mine to stay away from the outside as much as possible, avoiding all highly populated areas. \n\nI obeyed my rule and lived on it as Moses lived on the mountain of Sinai, where he stayed to talk to god for forty days and forty nights, and I was doing the same, just never coming down from the mountain, and I don't speak to god per se, but more to myself and my bitch dog. She’s not really a bitch, however, I still love her more than anything else in this world, and she truly is my best companion, but that still doesn't mean she’s not a bitch. I love my seclusion, and it gives me a lot of time to reflect on my life and past, while also helping me remain sane as I relive it all in a stable state of mind. It was a difficult process, and the CPT from this highly recommended therapist did nothing but bring my nightmares back to life. \n\nCheyenne and I have been best friends since we were six years old, and I cherished her soul more than I cherished my own, and my love for her was a stone that could never crack. She had just gotten married, where I was supposed to be the maid of honor, but as you know, with my disorders, I couldn't make myself attend the wedding, which was states away. Well, Cheyenne came down to visit me because her concern was too much for her to just hear about, and it was time that she felt the need to take some kind of action to get me out of this hell I have trapped myself in. She took a rental car to my house from the airport, and tears were shed, for it had been years since we last saw each other. I gave her a tour of my house, showed her the guest room where she could stay, and we went to the kitchen to drink wine and catch up on life. \n\nThen we both got hungry, and I suggested takeout while Cheyenne suggested going out. My anxiety was spiking just thinking about leaving the house when Cheyenne came back with my anxiety medication, had me take two, and then told me to go get ready, we were leaving the house. I put on my baggy t-shirt featuring my favorite podcast characters, squeezed into a pair of black leggings, then slipped into a black sweater that fell to my knees and a pair of platform ankle-high Ugg boots that were, you guessed it, black. I don't know what it was about the absence of color that I loved most, but in my wardrobe, there was nothing bright and cheerful; everything was dark and filled in like a void. \n\n“Hey, did you know that gladiators wore a subligaculum, also known as a loincloth, a halter, or a wide belt, and manicas, which were arm guards when they went into battle?” Cheyenne was pushing me out the door to her rental car, and my mind was blasting open like popping kernels in the microwave. \n\nCheyenne took me to a nice but not too classy sit-down restaurant, which made me feel even more uncomfortable. Cheyenne at least asked for the booth in the back corner of the room so we could be extra isolated from the others who sat around us. I made an extra effort to round the dining area to reach the booth, so I wouldn't have to pass anyone at the tables on my way. I sat with my back against the rest of the customers in the dining room and looked at the back wall, and Cheyenne, who happily sat across from me. Cheyenne and I had both grown three decades together, and I still see her as the stick-thin cheerleader that always practiced in the school halls while I sat in my tomboy attire, laughing my ass off at her routines. Then the waitress came and handed us menus and water before asking us if there was anything else we would like to drink. \n\n“Did you know that a foam that sometimes forms on a large amount of pig poop can spontaneously explode?” The words came out nervously as I awkwardly smiled at the poor waitress, who looked at me, perplexed and disgusted. \n\n“A pitcher of beer with two cold mugs will be fine.” Cheyenne smiled at the waitress, then at me. “I still don't know how you know all this shit.” She laughed and shook her head. “I never knew why you decided to join the military instead of going to school; you could have thrived.” Cheyenne has always been optimistic about me and has been through every downpour of my life. \n\nThe melancholy music that played in the background of this establishment  added to my depression more than it soothed me, as it was supposed to do. Our beer came, and I poured myself a glass immediately before Cheyenne could order for both of us and before I could spit out another fun fact about life. Cheyenne knew me better than anyone, and I just knew without asking that she got me the best-looking thing on the menu, as she got a side salad and a plate of French fries. When our food came, I tried to ignore the cacophony of whispers and laughing behind me as I chewed my steak through gritting teeth. After our meal, noticing we didn't die, Cheyenne got braver and decided to take me to a bar. I sat awkwardly on one of the barstools and ordered an Old Fashioned and a glass of whiskey on the rocks. \n\nCheyenne instantly joined the clans in front of us, rambunctiously dancing on the front floor as I tried not to throw up all over myself, as I nervously tapped on the elm-shaved bar top and looked down into my whiskey with an intense gaze. Cheyenne always came back to check on me, and each time, I realized she was becoming more and more intoxicated, and I should have known this was going to happen because it happened every time Cheyenne wanted to go to a bar. I sipped my drinks as the bitter taste of being a forced DD made my cheeks flush. \n\nIt was the most terrifying thing in the world to me when a girl came up to the bar and started to talk to me. I paid her attention, leaving my beer by my side out of sight, and I listened to her as she introduced herself and began speaking of things I'm sure she didn't mean to share with me. Then, after she was done with me and got another drink, she was off again, and I could take a deep breath of relief. I took a few sips from my whisky on ice and swirled the little ball around before finishing it off and moving on to my old-fashioned. I was halfway through my drink when I began to feel funny. I knew I hadn't drunk enough at all to feel this effect from any type of alcohol. I searched the dance floor vigorously for Cheyenne, but she was nowhere to be seen. \n\nI stumbled off my barstool as a man caught me and asked if I was okay. I told him I just needed to find my friend, and he was kind enough to help me look around before we began heading to the front door, and my world was going pitch black. I woke up in the back of a large truck, trapped by rope with maybe another dozen girls with me, all looking like me. Each one of them looked like they had depressed mania and a fear of leaving the house, and it was easy to recognize by the clothes they were all wearing, just like me; they tried to cover each part of their body. The truck stopped, the door slid open, and men in masks piled in, took us out of the trunk, and made us walk into a large factory. We rounded corners and went up stories of stairs before we were thrown into a dark room to wait for whatever was going to come next. \n\nThat's when men began coming in and taking us and leaving with a girl screaming for help, begging for her life as the door shut, and the rest of us were left whimpering. Then it was my time to be chosen, and I didn't throw a fit because I needed my energy to escape, not throw a tantrum. I was taken into a room with two-way mirrors high on the walls, standing on a platform in view of whoever was on the other side of the glass. There were two men in masks standing near the only way out as green lights began to flicker on in the mirrors around me. Then a man over the intercom commanded to see more, and that’s when I was stripped down to my sports bra and boy short panties. More green lights went off, and finally, after one last flash, I was taken away through another door and put into a very empty, lonely room of my own. \n\nThe room filled with gas before I got comfortable, and before I knew it, I was driving again in the back of a truck with a bunch of other stripped-down women like myself. The truck stopped, and we were all hooded before we were led through a steel creaking door and followed down metal clanking stairs. We reached a sturdy concrete floor where another steel door squealed open. I could hear the commotion now, and the uproar all around me made each hair on my skin stand on end as I felt more exposed than ever. Our hoods were removed as we were welcomed to the sight of a small commune with a little town that we were in the center of. Men in finely dressed suits, half-dressed, some with their ties extra tight, all standing and staring to see where each one of us was going to go. \n\nThen the masked man who led us here gave us off to a man with a microphone. “All these women are bought and paid for, and it is the owner's choice on what gets done with them.” The man in the microphone went to the first girl in line as she openly cried out for mercy. “This one goes to Reinestine. What will be done with her, sir?” The man called out to the crowd, waiting for a response. I saw a man within the herd put his thumb down, and the girl still tied up was thrown to the mass of men who began to devour her whole. Then it was my turn after three other decisions before me, all being rejected by their new masters. “Malacoy, what say you?” The guy with the microphone put a cold hand on my naked shoulder, and I shivered with tears silently streaming down my face. There was a thumbs up, and the crowd parted for what looked like the wealthiest man in the room. \n\nI was taken by the man who had bought me and was led to a master chamber filled with everything one would need to survive. I knew my master shut and locked the door before towering over me with his broad chest to the top of my head. \n\n“You will be well taken care of here as long as you do one thing for me.” His voice was deep and stern, and the bass in his baritone tune made me cower with fear. “You must feed my daughter who is in my closet, three times a day at the same time every day until I release you of your duty.” The man went to his closest door and knocked on it three times; three knocks were returned immediately. \n\n“Who’s in there?” I was terrified of the answer he had just given me for there was no way he had his daughter locked up in some underground realm of deadly men.\n\n“It’s my daughter, and she is very different, and she needs very specific things.” My new owner was pacing around the room with his hands behind his back. “Under us is a blood bath for men who want their wildest sadist thoughts to come true. They can do whatever they want in that town created for men, just as we take on our deepest desires. I could throw you down there just like the rest of the women that were rejected, or you can stay in this room and take meat to my daughter three times a day and never have to leave until I relinquish you.” He stopped moving next to his bedroom door, ready to open it, waiting for my answer. \n\n","offTopic":false},{"id":"de2cddfd-5432-4f2b-be41-06b01456adfc","excerpt":"Listen to your agoraphonia — Listen to your Agoraphobia \n\nCW mental illness, medications, abuse\n\nI bore through immense amounts of trauma before being fully diagnosed with agoraphobia. First diagnosed with manic bipolar disorder, which corresponded well with my heart-stricken PTSD, and it all wrapped together with my c","url":"https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/comments/1t94iov/listen_to_your_agoraphonia/","role":"pain","weight":0.8686951,"occurredAt":"2026-05-10T11:34:49.000Z","sourceKey":"reddit","sourceName":"Reddit","credibility":0.62,"venue":"TalesFromTheCreeps","intent":"feature_request","painScore":0.42,"sentiment":0.81395346,"confidence":0.6117571,"matchedPatterns":["still_cannot"],"statement":"She’s not really a bitch, however, I still love her more than anything else in this world, and she truly is my best companion, but that still doesn't mean she’s not a bitch.","title":"Listen to your agoraphonia","body":"Listen to your Agoraphobia \n\nCW mental illness, medications, abuse\n\nI bore through immense amounts of trauma before being fully diagnosed with agoraphobia. First diagnosed with manic bipolar disorder, which corresponded well with my heart-stricken PTSD, and it all wrapped together with my crippling anxiety. To say the least, I do not and will not leave my house unless I am with someone I trust, and they drive us to our destination, for I do not drive under any circumstances. One of the best things that keeps me sane is knowing facts about life that no one else seems to care about. Just like, did you know, the water in Australia’s Lake Hillier is cotton candy pink, or that the earth is seventy percent water and only three percent is freshwater, while the rest consists of the ocean. Well, with my anxiety disorder and extreme paranoia, I only leave my house with certain people, and I only go with them to specific, well-known to me locations. It is a strict rule of mine to stay away from the outside as much as possible, avoiding all highly populated areas. \n\nI obeyed my rule and lived on it as Moses lived on the mountain of Sinai, where he stayed to talk to god for forty days and forty nights, and I was doing the same, just never coming down from the mountain, and I don't speak to god per se, but more to myself and my bitch dog. She’s not really a bitch, however, I still love her more than anything else in this world, and she truly is my best companion, but that still doesn't mean she’s not a bitch. I love my seclusion, and it gives me a lot of time to reflect on my life and past, while also helping me remain sane as I relive it all in a stable state of mind. It was a difficult process, and the CPT from this highly recommended therapist did nothing but bring my nightmares back to life. \n\nCheyenne and I have been best friends since we were six years old, and I cherished her soul more than I cherished my own, and my love for her was a stone that could never crack. She had just gotten married, where I was supposed to be the maid of honor, but as you know, with my disorders, I couldn't make myself attend the wedding, which was states away. Well, Cheyenne came down to visit me because her concern was too much for her to just hear about, and it was time that she felt the need to take some kind of action to get me out of this hell I have trapped myself in. She took a rental car to my house from the airport, and tears were shed, for it had been years since we last saw each other. I gave her a tour of my house, showed her the guest room where she could stay, and we went to the kitchen to drink wine and catch up on life. \n\nThen we both got hungry, and I suggested takeout while Cheyenne suggested going out. My anxiety was spiking just thinking about leaving the house when Cheyenne came back with my anxiety medication, had me take two, and then told me to go get ready, we were leaving the house. I put on my baggy t-shirt featuring my favorite podcast characters, squeezed into a pair of black leggings, then slipped into a black sweater that fell to my knees and a pair of platform ankle-high Ugg boots that were, you guessed it, black. I don't know what it was about the absence of color that I loved most, but in my wardrobe, there was nothing bright and cheerful; everything was dark and filled in like a void. \n\n“Hey, did you know that gladiators wore a subligaculum, also known as a loincloth, a halter, or a wide belt, and manicas, which were arm guards when they went into battle?” Cheyenne was pushing me out the door to her rental car, and my mind was blasting open like popping kernels in the microwave. \n\nCheyenne took me to a nice but not too classy sit-down restaurant, which made me feel even more uncomfortable. Cheyenne at least asked for the booth in the back corner of the room so we could be extra isolated from the others who sat around us. I made an extra effort to round the dining area to reach the booth, so I wouldn't have to pass anyone at the tables on my way. I sat with my back against the rest of the customers in the dining room and looked at the back wall, and Cheyenne, who happily sat across from me. Cheyenne and I had both grown three decades together, and I still see her as the stick-thin cheerleader that always practiced in the school halls while I sat in my tomboy attire, laughing my ass off at her routines. Then the waitress came and handed us menus and water before asking us if there was anything else we would like to drink. \n\n“Did you know that a foam that sometimes forms on a large amount of pig poop can spontaneously explode?” The words came out nervously as I awkwardly smiled at the poor waitress, who looked at me, perplexed and disgusted. \n\n“A pitcher of beer with two cold mugs will be fine.” Cheyenne smiled at the waitress, then at me. “I still don't know how you know all this shit.” She laughed and shook her head. “I never knew why you decided to join the military instead of going to school; you could have thrived.” Cheyenne has always been optimistic about me and has been through every downpour of my life. \n\nThe melancholy music that played in the background of this establishment  added to my depression more than it soothed me, as it was supposed to do. Our beer came, and I poured myself a glass immediately before Cheyenne could order for both of us and before I could spit out another fun fact about life. Cheyenne knew me better than anyone, and I just knew without asking that she got me the best-looking thing on the menu, as she got a side salad and a plate of French fries. When our food came, I tried to ignore the cacophony of whispers and laughing behind me as I chewed my steak through gritting teeth. After our meal, noticing we didn't die, Cheyenne got braver and decided to take me to a bar. I sat awkwardly on one of the barstools and ordered an Old Fashioned and a glass of whiskey on the rocks. \n\nCheyenne instantly joined the clans in front of us, rambunctiously dancing on the front floor as I tried not to throw up all over myself, as I nervously tapped on the elm-shaved bar top and looked down into my whiskey with an intense gaze. Cheyenne always came back to check on me, and each time, I realized she was becoming more and more intoxicated, and I should have known this was going to happen because it happened every time Cheyenne wanted to go to a bar. I sipped my drinks as the bitter taste of being a forced DD made my cheeks flush. \n\nIt was the most terrifying thing in the world to me when a girl came up to the bar and started to talk to me. I paid her attention, leaving my beer by my side out of sight, and I listened to her as she introduced herself and began speaking of things I'm sure she didn't mean to share with me. Then, after she was done with me and got another drink, she was off again, and I could take a deep breath of relief. I took a few sips from my whisky on ice and swirled the little ball around before finishing it off and moving on to my old-fashioned. I was halfway through my drink when I began to feel funny. I knew I hadn't drunk enough at all to feel this effect from any type of alcohol. I searched the dance floor vigorously for Cheyenne, but she was nowhere to be seen. \n\nI stumbled off my barstool as a man caught me and asked if I was okay. I told him I just needed to find my friend, and he was kind enough to help me look around before we began heading to the front door, and my world was going pitch black. I woke up in the back of a large truck, trapped by rope with maybe another dozen girls with me, all looking like me. Each one of them looked like they had depressed mania and a fear of leaving the house, and it was easy to recognize by the clothes they were all wearing, just like me; they tried to cover each part of their body. The truck stopped, the door slid open, and men in masks piled in, took us out of the trunk, and made us walk into a large factory. We rounded corners and went up stories of stairs before we were thrown into a dark room to wait for whatever was going to come next. \n\nThat's when men began coming in and taking us and leaving with a girl screaming for help, begging for her life as the door shut, and the rest of us were left whimpering. Then it was my time to be chosen, and I didn't throw a fit because I needed my energy to escape, not throw a tantrum. I was taken into a room with two-way mirrors high on the walls, standing on a platform in view of whoever was on the other side of the glass. There were two men in masks standing near the only way out as green lights began to flicker on in the mirrors around me. Then a man over the intercom commanded to see more, and that’s when I was stripped down to my sports bra and boy short panties. More green lights went off, and finally, after one last flash, I was taken away through another door and put into a very empty, lonely room of my own. \n\nThe room filled with gas before I got comfortable, and before I knew it, I was driving again in the back of a truck with a bunch of other stripped-down women like myself. The truck stopped, and we were all hooded before we were led through a steel creaking door and followed down metal clanking stairs. We reached a sturdy concrete floor where another steel door squealed open. I could hear the commotion now, and the uproar all around me made each hair on my skin stand on end as I felt more exposed than ever. Our hoods were removed as we were welcomed to the sight of a small commune with a little town that we were in the center of. Men in finely dressed suits, half-dressed, some with their ties extra tight, all standing and staring to see where each one of us was going to go. \n\nThen the masked man who led us here gave us off to a man with a microphone. “All these women are bought and paid for, and it is the owner's choice on what gets done with them.” The man in the microphone went to the first girl in line as she openly cried out for mercy. “This one goes to Reinestine. What will be done with her, sir?” The man called out to the crowd, waiting for a response. I saw a man within the herd put his thumb down, and the girl still tied up was thrown to the mass of men who began to devour her whole. Then it was my turn after three other decisions before me, all being rejected by their new masters. “Malacoy, what say you?” The guy with the microphone put a cold hand on my naked shoulder, and I shivered with tears silently streaming down my face. There was a thumbs up, and the crowd parted for what looked like the wealthiest man in the room. \n\nI was taken by the man who had bought me and was led to a master chamber filled with everything one would need to survive. I knew my master shut and locked the door before towering over me with his broad chest to the top of my head. \n\n“You will be well taken care of here as long as you do one thing for me.” His voice was deep and stern, and the bass in his baritone tune made me cower with fear. “You must feed my daughter who is in my closet, three times a day at the same time every day until I release you of your duty.” The man went to his closest door and knocked on it three times; three knocks were returned immediately. \n\n“Who’s in there?” I was terrified of the answer he had just given me for there was no way he had his daughter locked up in some underground realm of deadly men.\n\n“It’s my daughter, and she is very different, and she needs very specific things.” My new owner was pacing around the room with his hands behind his back. “Under us is a blood bath for men who want their wildest sadist thoughts to come true. They can do whatever they want in that town created for men, just as we take on our deepest desires. I could throw you down there just like the rest of the women that were rejected, or you can stay in this room and take meat to my daughter three times a day and never have to leave until I relinquish you.” He stopped moving next to his bedroom door, ready to open it, waiting for my answer. \n\n","offTopic":false},{"id":"e60492fe-a5ef-4013-a50a-e547520bab0c","excerpt":"Listen to your agoraphobia — Listen to your Agoraphobia \n\nCW mental illness, medications, abuse, real world trauma, underground human trafficing ring \n\nI bore through immense amounts of trauma before being fully diagnosed with agoraphobia. First diagnosed with manic bipolar disorder, which corresponded well with my hea","url":"https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMidnightArchives/comments/1t94jms/listen_to_your_agoraphobia/","role":"pain","weight":0.83463246,"occurredAt":"2026-05-10T11:36:09.000Z","sourceKey":"reddit","sourceName":"Reddit","credibility":0.62,"venue":"TheMidnightArchives","intent":"feature_request","painScore":0.42,"sentiment":0.81395346,"confidence":0.5877693,"matchedPatterns":["still_cannot"],"statement":"She’s not really a bitch, however, I still love her more than anything else in this world, and she truly is my best companion, but that still doesn't mean she’s not a bitch.","title":"Listen to your agoraphobia","body":"Listen to your Agoraphobia \n\nCW mental illness, medications, abuse, real world trauma, underground human trafficing ring \n\nI bore through immense amounts of trauma before being fully diagnosed with agoraphobia. First diagnosed with manic bipolar disorder, which corresponded well with my heart-stricken PTSD, and it all wrapped together with my crippling anxiety. To say the least, I do not and will not leave my house unless I am with someone I trust, and they drive us to our destination, for I do not drive under any circumstances. One of the best things that keeps me sane is knowing facts about life that no one else seems to care about. Just like, did you know, the water in Australia’s Lake Hillier is cotton candy pink, or that the earth is seventy percent water and only three percent is freshwater, while the rest consists of the ocean. Well, with my anxiety disorder and extreme paranoia, I only leave my house with certain people, and I only go with them to specific, well-known to me locations. It is a strict rule of mine to stay away from the outside as much as possible, avoiding all highly populated areas. \n\nI obeyed my rule and lived on it as Moses lived on the mountain of Sinai, where he stayed to talk to god for forty days and forty nights, and I was doing the same, just never coming down from the mountain, and I don't speak to god per se, but more to myself and my bitch dog. She’s not really a bitch, however, I still love her more than anything else in this world, and she truly is my best companion, but that still doesn't mean she’s not a bitch. I love my seclusion, and it gives me a lot of time to reflect on my life and past, while also helping me remain sane as I relive it all in a stable state of mind. It was a difficult process, and the CPT from this highly recommended therapist did nothing but bring my nightmares back to life. \n\nCheyenne and I have been best friends since we were six years old, and I cherished her soul more than I cherished my own, and my love for her was a stone that could never crack. She had just gotten married, where I was supposed to be the maid of honor, but as you know, with my disorders, I couldn't make myself attend the wedding, which was states away. Well, Cheyenne came down to visit me because her concern was too much for her to just hear about, and it was time that she felt the need to take some kind of action to get me out of this hell I have trapped myself in. She took a rental car to my house from the airport, and tears were shed, for it had been years since we last saw each other. I gave her a tour of my house, showed her the guest room where she could stay, and we went to the kitchen to drink wine and catch up on life. \n\nThen we both got hungry, and I suggested takeout while Cheyenne suggested going out. My anxiety was spiking just thinking about leaving the house when Cheyenne came back with my anxiety medication, had me take two, and then told me to go get ready, we were leaving the house. I put on my baggy t-shirt featuring my favorite podcast characters, squeezed into a pair of black leggings, then slipped into a black sweater that fell to my knees and a pair of platform ankle-high Ugg boots that were, you guessed it, black. I don't know what it was about the absence of color that I loved most, but in my wardrobe, there was nothing bright and cheerful; everything was dark and filled in like a void. \n\n“Hey, did you know that gladiators wore a subligaculum, also known as a loincloth, a halter, or a wide belt, and manicas, which were arm guards when they went into battle?” Cheyenne was pushing me out the door to her rental car, and my mind was blasting open like popping kernels in the microwave. \n\nCheyenne took me to a nice but not too classy sit-down restaurant, which made me feel even more uncomfortable. Cheyenne at least asked for the booth in the back corner of the room so we could be extra isolated from the others who sat around us. I made an extra effort to round the dining area to reach the booth, so I wouldn't have to pass anyone at the tables on my way. I sat with my back against the rest of the customers in the dining room and looked at the back wall, and Cheyenne, who happily sat across from me. Cheyenne and I had both grown three decades together, and I still see her as the stick-thin cheerleader that always practiced in the school halls while I sat in my tomboy attire, laughing my ass off at her routines. Then the waitress came and handed us menus and water before asking us if there was anything else we would like to drink. \n\n“Did you know that a foam that sometimes forms on a large amount of pig poop can spontaneously explode?” The words came out nervously as I awkwardly smiled at the poor waitress, who looked at me, perplexed and disgusted. \n\n“A pitcher of beer with two cold mugs will be fine.” Cheyenne smiled at the waitress, then at me. “I still don't know how you know all this shit.” She laughed and shook her head. “I never knew why you decided to join the military instead of going to school; you could have thrived.” Cheyenne has always been optimistic about me and has been through every downpour of my life. \n\nThe melancholy music that played in the background of this establishment  added to my depression more than it soothed me, as it was supposed to do. Our beer came, and I poured myself a glass immediately before Cheyenne could order for both of us and before I could spit out another fun fact about life. Cheyenne knew me better than anyone, and I just knew without asking that she got me the best-looking thing on the menu, as she got a side salad and a plate of French fries. When our food came, I tried to ignore the cacophony of whispers and laughing behind me as I chewed my steak through gritting teeth. After our meal, noticing we didn't die, Cheyenne got braver and decided to take me to a bar. I sat awkwardly on one of the barstools and ordered an Old Fashioned and a glass of whiskey on the rocks. \n\nCheyenne instantly joined the clans in front of us, rambunctiously dancing on the front floor as I tried not to throw up all over myself, as I nervously tapped on the elm-shaved bar top and looked down into my whiskey with an intense gaze. Cheyenne always came back to check on me, and each time, I realized she was becoming more and more intoxicated, and I should have known this was going to happen because it happened every time Cheyenne wanted to go to a bar. I sipped my drinks as the bitter taste of being a forced DD made my cheeks flush. \n\nIt was the most terrifying thing in the world to me when a girl came up to the bar and started to talk to me. I paid her attention, leaving my beer by my side out of sight, and I listened to her as she introduced herself and began speaking of things I'm sure she didn't mean to share with me. Then, after she was done with me and got another drink, she was off again, and I could take a deep breath of relief. I took a few sips from my whisky on ice and swirled the little ball around before finishing it off and moving on to my old-fashioned. I was halfway through my drink when I began to feel funny. I knew I hadn't drunk enough at all to feel this effect from any type of alcohol. I searched the dance floor vigorously for Cheyenne, but she was nowhere to be seen. \n\nI stumbled off my barstool as a man caught me and asked if I was okay. I told him I just needed to find my friend, and he was kind enough to help me look around before we began heading to the front door, and my world was going pitch black. I woke up in the back of a large truck, trapped by rope with maybe another dozen girls with me, all looking like me. Each one of them looked like they had depressed mania and a fear of leaving the house, and it was easy to recognize by the clothes they were all wearing, just like me; they tried to cover each part of their body. The truck stopped, the door slid open, and men in masks piled in, took us out of the trunk, and made us walk into a large factory. We rounded corners and went up stories of stairs before we were thrown into a dark room to wait for whatever was going to come next. \n\nThat's when men began coming in and taking us and leaving with a girl screaming for help, begging for her life as the door shut, and the rest of us were left whimpering. Then it was my time to be chosen, and I didn't throw a fit because I needed my energy to escape, not throw a tantrum. I was taken into a room with two-way mirrors high on the walls, standing on a platform in view of whoever was on the other side of the glass. There were two men in masks standing near the only way out as green lights began to flicker on in the mirrors around me. Then a man over the intercom commanded to see more, and that’s when I was stripped down to my sports bra and boy short panties. More green lights went off, and finally, after one last flash, I was taken away through another door and put into a very empty, lonely room of my own. \n\nThe room filled with gas before I got comfortable, and before I knew it, I was driving again in the back of a truck with a bunch of other stripped-down women like myself. The truck stopped, and we were all hooded before we were led through a steel creaking door and followed down metal clanking stairs. We reached a sturdy concrete floor where another steel door squealed open. I could hear the commotion now, and the uproar all around me made each hair on my skin stand on end as I felt more exposed than ever. Our hoods were removed as we were welcomed to the sight of a small commune with a little town that we were in the center of. Men in finely dressed suits, half-dressed, some with their ties extra tight, all standing and staring to see where each one of us was going to go. \n\nThen the masked man who led us here gave us off to a man with a microphone. “All these women are bought and paid for, and it is the owner's choice on what gets done with them.” The man in the microphone went to the first girl in line as she openly cried out for mercy. “This one goes to Reinestine. What will be done with her, sir?” The man called out to the crowd, waiting for a response. I saw a man within the herd put his thumb down, and the girl still tied up was thrown to the mass of men who began to devour her whole. Then it was my turn after three other decisions before me, all being rejected by their new masters. “Malacoy, what say you?” The guy with the microphone put a cold hand on my naked shoulder, and I shivered with tears silently streaming down my face. There was a thumbs up, and the crowd parted for what looked like the wealthiest man in the room. \n\nI was taken by the man who had bought me and was led to a master chamber filled with everything one would need to survive. I knew my master shut and locked the door before towering over me with his broad chest to the top of my head. \n\n“You will be well taken care of here as long as you do one thing for me.” His voice was deep and stern, and the bass in his baritone tune made me cower with fear. “You must feed my daughter who is in my closet, three times a day at the same time every day until I release you of your duty.” The man went to his closest door and knocked on it three times; three knocks were returned immediately. \n\n“Who’s in there?” I was terrified of the answer he had just given me for there was no way he had his daughter locked up in some underground realm of deadly men.\n\n“It’s my daughter, and she is very different, and she needs very specific things.” My new owner was pacing around the room with his hands behind his back. “Under us is a blood bath for men who want their wildest sadist thoughts to come true. They can do whatever they want in that town created for men, just as we take on our deepest desires. I could throw you down there just like the rest of the women that were rejected, or you can stay in this room and take meat to my daughter three times a day and never have to leave until I relinquish you.” He stopped moving next to his be","offTopic":false}],"breakdown":[{"sourceKey":"reddit","sourceName":"Reddit","count":3}],"total":3}}