As the party loomed, the girls' excitement only amplified. Chrystal, with her fiery red hair and mesmerizing green eyes, was among them, arguing passionately about the perfect shade of lipstick for the evening. She stood there, surrounded by her girlfriends, all of them chattering away, completely unaware of the scene unfolding in the nearby toilet.
The slave remained locked in the toilet bowl, his entire being engulfed in the foul stench of human waste. He was barely conscious, his body aching from the unnatural position he had been forced to maintain for so long. Through his tear-filled eyes, he could see the girls' shimmering reflections dance across the water of the bowl - a poignant reminder of the lavish lives they led while he was nothing more than a living toilet.
Suddenly, Chrystal's friend let out a yelp of surprise. "Oh my God, are you serious?" She asked, horror etched across her face.
Chrystal turned to see what had happened and gasped in shock. There, in the toilet bowl, was the slave, his eyes pleading for mercy as he lifted his trembling hands to show her the thick layer of feces and urine coating them. She recoiled in disgust, turning away from the sight.
"What do we do? We can't just leave him like that!" Another girl exclaimed, her voice trembling with fear.
Amidst the chaos, one of the boys stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I know what we can do," he said, grinning. "Let's make him a human ashtray. That'll teach him not to drink so much."
Before anyone could protest, he grabbed a hot cigarette from a nearby table and pressed it against the slave's already burned skin. The scream that escaped his lips mixed with the scent of burning flesh, filling the air with an unbearable stench.
Chrystal looked on, her excitement mingling with confusion. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene unfolding before her. As the boy dropped another cigarette onto the slave's body, she felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. Was this really who she was becoming? What kind of person could enjoy causing such pain to another human being?
Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance. "Stop it!" She yelled, pushing the boy away from the slave. "This is sick!"
Her voice rang out through the room, overpowering the music and the chatter. Everyone turned to look at her, shock written across their faces. For a moment, there was silence.
"You're right," the boy finally admitted, looking away. "This isn't right. Let's just forget about him."
And with that, they left the slave lying in the filth, his body covered in burns and his mind consumed by pain. As Chrystal walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was the moment her life changed forever. She wondered if she would ever be able to look at herself – or anyone else – in the mirror again without seeing the monster they had become.
