A black girl jumps you

You hesitantly slide into the room, half-hoping the trespasser is a stranger looking to rent the place. It'd be almost preferable to the presence of your shady, unsavory neighbors.

"H... hello?" you call out, striving for confidence and sounding tremulous instead.

Something smashes into your stomach, doubling you over and knocking your bathroom supplies across the room. Your attacker rides you to the ground, twisting your small robe around your arms, effectively tying them behind your back. Their knee gouges painfully into your back while an arm goes around your neck and yanks sharply.

"Who are you?" a voice rasps in your ear. Gravelly like a long-time smoker you can't tell if it belongs to a man or woman. Unfortunately you don't have the breath to answer and they tighten their grip, bending your spine further, tangling their free hand in your hair until you feel like your spine's about to snap.

"Think you're tough, huh?" the voice says, and the room flips, going in a dizzying rush from you staring wide-eyed at the opposite wall to you being on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

A moment later your attacker is on your stomach, their weight keeping your hands bound behind your back.

"Let's see how you take a little pain..." the person says, and you find yourself staring into the menacing face of a black woman.

This partial revelation barely penetrates before the woman takes hold of your bared nipples with long sharp nails and twists.

A sharp wheeze is all you can muster, barely even audible as you arch your back. Tears streaming from your eyes, reminiscent of the blood it feels like she's trying to wring from your chest.

With a snort she lets you go. "What a wimp," she mutters, standing.

Immediately you turn on your side, trying to curl into a fetal position. It's only when she yanks the robe from your arms that you're able to bring your hands up to your poor bruised nipples while protecting your aching stomach with your legs.

Sounds of movement make you flinch at the expectation of an attack but nothing happens. After a long time spent recovering from the pain you look with blurry eyes to see her dumping your things from the only dresser, casually unloading clothes from a pair of suitcases that you know aren't yours.

"I think this place will do," she says, and sits in the one comfortable chair in the place while she toys with something you finally recognize as your phone. "Once you clean it up."