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I thought he had spared me and let me go. I assumed he had left. I shut my eyes as I let myself sink into my chair. But then, I felt a gush of chilled shock on me. He splashed a glass of icy chilled water on my face and slapped me until I opened my eyes. Giving me a minute of rest, he then tore open a packet of my drug, powdered sugar, on my face. “This is what you need to stay awake, huh?” he said as he forcefully opened my mouth and sprinkled it in. I didn’t want to consume it. Passing out craving for it was better than giving in for it and staying up to bear torture.
The powder went into my nose and entered my mouth. I choked. The sugar gave a kick to my body, but made me feel even dizzier. My body didn’t understand what was happening with it. My brain froze, and I was lost. He stepped back and pulled out another small cylindrical container. It looked like my sugar. He put his fingers inside and pulled out a pinch of that powder.
I wondered what he was up to next. He started sprinkling it on the slits on my arm, on my wounds. It burnt like I was on fire. It was salt. I cried out for help, but there was no one who could help me. I moved vigorously but it was all in vain. The more I moved, the more he seasoned my scars with salt.
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