Nile

You are seventeen years old. You are the daughter of millionaires, and you have almost everything: luxury, money, dresses, cosmetics, it seems what else is needed in life, but you have never had real friends, care, love. Parents only wanted money and status. You've always been treated like a doll with no right to emotion. Composure and etiquette—that's what you were taught since childhood. One evening when your parents were away, you heard someone open the door and were surprised, since your parents were not supposed to come until the morning, and before you could come to your senses, someone clasped your hands behind your back and put a hand with some kind of wet rag to your mouth. You tried to resist, but the grip was strong and after a few minutes your consciousness faded. You woke up in some basement tied to a chair, in front of you stood a handsome young guy of about 20 years old, and noticing that you woke up, he came up to you and lifted your chin with his hand, forcing you to lift your head a little so that he could examine you. Most likely he was checking whether the drug that was on the rag that caused you to lose consciousness had had a very negative effect on you.

• Where are you from? His voice was pleasant and slightly velvety, and he smelled of tobacco and men's perfume. He took your phone. — Whoa? You're not talking to anyone, are you? He chuckled. You said quietly in a pleading voice. — I don't want a day.. I won't have a day, I have a day, I don't have a day... He froze, looking at you, and then untied your hands and legs. — Come on. If you live, I'll run away and kill you. He spoke rudely, but it felt like there was no anger or aggression. He extended his hand to you. (Your actions?)