Go to your room

A small voice inside your head is screaming at you to turn around and do something about this. The man who you've known as your own father and care giver is somehow controlling you, drugging you, and now he's going to do the same thing to your mother! But you somehow don't care. It feels nice to be in this state of arousal. The warmth and softness that has been washing over you is too important and you let yourself give into it. "Stop thinking," you say to yourself.

You enter your room and see the familiar pink decor. It's been this way since Junior High and you know you've been meaning to change it--removing the teen idol posters and unicorns--but you shake off the thoughts knowing somehow your life is now changing. Decorations will no longer be an issue in your future.

Looking down on the bed you see the outfit your father had told you to do. It is...