I’m so tired yet I can’t sleep, I hate it when this happens. My body is demanding rest, but my mind refuses to stop torturing me about what will happen in my future. The image of me crying in a corner with torn clothes after been ravaged by some sick bastard keeps popping into my mind whenever I try to sleep.

Not a very good way to lose my second virginity, I tell you. My first-time back home wasn’t very good, but at least it was consensual and didn’t end with anyone crying in the corner. Just with a very disappointed teenager girl and a over excited teenager boy who could barely control his happiness about losing his v-card.

But I’m a pessimist person by nature, specialized in creating very bad scenarios about what could happen, most of the times the scenarios were a lot worst than what happened. Torturing myself with impossible scenarios is a second nature for me.

I really hope this is another case of me overthink and that in the near future I will be laughing of how stupid I was being. Hard to consider that’s a possibly, but you never know, I could be the lost heir to a Kingdom and soon I will be living a life of luxury when the slave who used to be my nanny found me being sold on the street.

I will be the heir of a powerful kingdom and take my revenge against the bastard’s that captured and torture me. And when I start to enjoy a life of luxury with beautiful women throwing themselves at me, there would be a palace coup and I would be murdered by an uncle that I made the mistake of trusting.

By the Corgi Gods, even in my delusions I end up getting killed. There should be a limit for how much of pessimist I’m, at least in my dreams I should live a life of luxury and happiness!

Not that I know what happiness is, back home I thought that I was on the road to happiness. Stable job, friends, a good internet provide so I could see memes and pornography without any kind of delay. I didn’t have any kids or plans to have one, but I was looking to adopt a dog, which is much better then some baby who I would need to wait for years so we could play catch.

I was ready to start the second phase of my plan to be happy, start working on my many emotional issues, in a matter of years of therapy and being medicated I would be a very happy fellow.

On the island I started to reconsidered what I needed to be happy, I had the stable job part. Since I was expected to take the old man place as the village blacksmith, but I didn’t have any good friend’s, the closest person to me was Marcus and we were more colleagues than friends.

There was no internet, so no memes or pornography, which is sad but no reason to jump a bridge while saying “goodbye cruel world” people lived for thousands of years without easy access to memes and pornography, so I thought that I could fond something to replace that in my heart. There was no dog in the island, so I would need to learn to live without a good boy or girl.

But even on the island I started to realize that I don’t know what happiness is or what I needed to be happy. Back home I just had stuff that would make my life more tolerable, I had a job so I wouldn’t starve to death and had the means to pay for a home and internet to pass the time.

Most of my energy was put to have a comfortable life, because to me that was the key to happiness or at least the gateway, since I considered that for me to be happy, I first needed to take care of the material part and then the spiritual.

And since I’m a control freak, I decided that for me to be happy I need to create some rules, first get rich or at least comfortable, and then fix my mental issues. Trying to do two things at the same time would be stupid, first use all available resources to fix one problem and then go to the next. Don’t spread too thin what you have, because it would be impossible fix anything.

Well, like most of my plans, it was brilliant on paper but complete useless in the real world. You can’t separate your mental problems from your life to solve later, I kind knew that, but I’m had so many issues that I was just creating excuses to procrastinate solving them.

Sure, I could try doing therapy and solve my problems or I could try to make money and pretend that I was doing something important to make me happy. Looking back, I was a completed idiot, not that going to therapy would make any difference now, or maybe would.

If I had a better emotional control, I would drink less and I wouldn't have died because I had drank too much. I could be right now in some terrible tinder date instead of being worried about being rape in the next days.

Nevertheless, I really could use a drink right now. Alcohol was the reason and solution of my problems in my last life. A few liters of cold beer or a bottle of whiskey would be divine to give my mind a blackout so I could relax.

I know a lot of people say that drinking is just a way to escape from your problems, so you don’t have to face them. But fuck these hypocrites, sometimes running is the best option in life. There are problems with no right answer and only less horrible solutions. When those problems show their ugly faces, you can only count in good old booze.

The door opens and scares the living shit of me. I sit on my mattress with my heart beating like crazy, when eleven people enter. They are all males, the youngest is probably is his late teen or early twenties and the oldest look to be in his fifties.

They are all wearing similar clothes to mine so they must be slaves coming to sleep after a hard day’s work. They look in our direction with some interest and start to have some conversation between themselves in a language that I can’t understand.

The oldest one points to us and say something I think is some sort of order from the way he's talking.

-” Sorry pal, we don’t speak the same language.”

Taking a page from the slave that helped Rita and Natali to eat, I use a very calm tone of voice to show no hostility to the man who is probably the leader of the group. Better not to make any kind of enemies here.

He looks upset about something and start to think. For some reason the others are not laying down or speaking to each other, they are all looking at us while the leader thinks.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, the leader decided on a course. He points to me and Rita’s husbands and then to two mattress that are very close to the door. You don’t need to be a genius to see that we are in somebody else spot.

If I had thought a little before picking a place to sleep I would have realized that the best place would have a owner. In my defense, I had a very stressful week and I’m not in my best state of mind to see every single possibility.

Best to just do whatever they want; is not like I can fight a huge group like this and they are not asking for much. I get up and then use a lot of straight to force the Moron up, but I fail miserably. The bastard is basically dead height and I’m just a malnourished kid, it’s impossible for me to lift him.

I look to the other slaves with puppy eyes begging for help, but the group just stares at me, some even look amused by my plight. Fantastic, what I’m supposed to do now? I try again and manage to get the same outcome.

I’m not getting anywhere doing this, I slap his face and say:

-“Get up you Moron, those fellows don’t look friendly.”

To no effect, he just keep looking at the roof. I think he is saying in a very passive aggressive way “this is your fault for putting me here, if you had let me stay close to the door, this wouldn't happen”. Fuck me for trying to be a better person, I was just trying to help.

I try one more time to no avail, I give up, let whoever he is stealing his bed deal with him. I leave toward the door but the leader stops me and yell something and points to the Moron.

I just shake my head saying no, there is no more point in me trying, it’s impossible for me. He punches me hard in the stomach to the point that I roll over in the ground unable to breathe.

I can hear the others laughing, like seeing me in pain is the funniest thing in the world. When the pain decreases and I can open my eye I see one of them laughing so hard that he is crying. The leader see that I opened my eye and with a sneer in the face he points to the Moron.

Without thinking I just spit in his feet. I enjoy for a few seconds his expression of disbelief and then anger, the bastard then kicks me in the same place that he had just punched.

I can see stars from the pain, the bastard used all his straight. what kind o sick person bullies a child like this? The other continue to laugh, I stay on the ground, it's better to pretend I'm dead.

Then the leader comes close to me and holds my head in both hands and spits in my face straight into my left eye. After letting me go he smiles and points again at the Moron. I consider to trying again, but I know it’s useless, he just want’s a excuse before beating me some more.

I try to think in a way to escape this situation, but I can’t see a way out. So I do the only thing that I can, I stay on the ground and close my right eye. I don’t think he is going to kill me since I’m his owner propriety and he would need to explain what happened.

I get kick again in the stomach and can hear and feel the other slaves laughing and spiting at me. But I stay in the ground with my eyes closes fighting the pain from the kicks and punch. They continue to yell and I think can hear the Moron getting his ass kick too.

A few hand’s hold my legs and arms and I can feel my body flying until it hits a wall. The impact hurts, but a lot less then being hit by the leader. It takes a while, but when I think nobody is looking at me anymore, I use my hands to wipe my eyes from all the spit and look around.

The bastards are divided into small groups and are playing dices. One of them sees me looking and points and laugh at me. I immediately close my eyes and do my best to pretend that I’m dead. I can hear they laugh, but thankfully nobody spit or hit me anymore.

I keep my eyes close until it’s dark and I can hear the other slaves snoring and farting. I finally open my eyes, the moon light illuminates a little the room, thanks to the small windows.

The leader is sleeping in the mattress that I was using, he beat the living shit of me just because I laid down in his bed? What a sick bastard, my body hurts a little, but I think I didn’t broke any bones.

The Moron is sited in the same spot that he used in the first time. What an irony, I tried to help someone and the only thing that I managed was to get both of us beat and he returned to the same place.

I think there is a life lesson somewhere, unfortunate, besides my body hurting a lot from the beatings, I’m incredible tired so I don’t have the brain power to understand what just happed and what I need to learn from all this.

Perhaps the life lesson is that I’m fucked and should just give up. Who knew that my life coach was right all along? And at our last appointment I called her a quack who fucked her own life and was pretending to know what she was doing so she could get money from people who were desperate. I was kind of hard that day, but my sister deserved to hear that.

I start laughing when I remember my sister pretending to be a life coach, but my body starts to hurt so I stop. I miss home.

The Moron finally close his eyes and I think he’s asleep. I need to do the same. I crawl very slowly to a mattress so I don’t wake nobody and prepare myself to sleep.

Not sure what waits for me tomorrow, but the good thing about hitting rock bottom is that now the only way is up. Unless tomorrow means rape time, then the day after tomorrow the only way is up.