The bulky man eventually came and collapsed on me, almost suffocating me with his weight. I punched him with the little strength I had left, for him to get off me, wondering if he had suffered a heart attack. He finally arose and pulled on his boxers and trousers, while I gathered my legs in my arms and edged away from him. My naked body was marred with bruises from where he had handled me roughly. I cried.
Barely moments after he had left the room, another man entered. Fear gripped me anew at the realisation that they all intended to rape me. I cowered and sobbed, and begged him, as I had done the man before. But this man was even more terrible, as he mocked me and called me all sorts of names, while telling me all the things he would to me. After slapping me around for a while, because he said he liked it rough, he violated me over and over.
By the time the third man had his way, I was well and truly broken. Begging was no use. Fighting was no use. Screaming was no use. No one was coming to my aid…
Read more at http://blog.ufuomaee.org/broken-part-seven/