The next morning, Tae descended the creaking stairs towards the basement laundry room, the cheap plastic laundry basket bumping against her thigh.

Sunlight streamed weakly through the grimy basement window. She’d chosen her outfit with deliberate provocation: a flimsy, sunflower-yellow sundress so short the hem barely brushed mid-thigh, the thin straps leaving her shoulders bare. No bra – her nipples pressed visibly against the thin cotton. No panties. Just bare skin beneath the flimsy shield. The promise of last night’s violation pulsed warmly between her legs, a constant, slick reminder.