The Hamilton Facility by J-Cal Grunting, struggling and fighting, I remained strapped to the restraint chair, my gagged cries, for help barely audible as it was, rendered mute over the din of the van’s engine. The way the ball-gag forced my mouth open and how its straps dug into the corners of my mouth made me drool like an imbecile, and my continued strained groans and efforts to move made the drool drip from my chin onto my chest, soaking through my shirt. I couldn’t see anything in the dark, cold container, but I did my b…
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