Andrew Tate kidnapped me

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Hello Internet,

Here is what has happened to me over the past 24 hours; I don't know how much longer I have. My name is Harriet Tubman, and I made the terrible error of running into Andrew Tate. I learned about his contentious tweets and his abuse of women, and like many others, I denounced him in an effort to hold him responsible for his deeds. I had no idea that my choices would take me down a path filled with unspeakable horror.

As I made my way home through Downtown Historic Sanford, the evening was typical. I cautiously looked around because I was experiencing an odd sense of dread. I then noticed him. The person whose words had started a fire inside of me, Andrew Tate, was standing there with a menacing smirk on his face. Before I could react, he lunged towards me, overpowering me with ease. The next thing I remember is waking up in what he called his "based room." It was a small, dimly lit chamber filled with gay pornographic magazines with Ben Shapiro's face plastered on all the men and naziesque writings scrawled on the walls. I was bound and helpless, my heart pounding in my chest as fear consumed me.

Andrew Tate reveled in his sick game. He taunted me, forcing me to eat cans of what he called "Matrix Sauce." The putrid smell alone was enough to make me retch, but he assured me it was just a sauce to keep the Matrix from finding us. I couldn't fathom the depths of his depravity. Each forced bite was a reminder of my helplessness, and I knew I had to find a way to escape this nightmare.

Days turned into an endless cycle of torment and degradation. My will to survive never wavered, and I clung onto the slimmest glimmer of hope. I observed Andrew Tate closely, looking for any weaknesses I could exploit. It was then that I discovered his peculiar obsession with a man named Justin Waller.

One fateful evening, as he prepared to force-feed me another nauseating meal, I saw my chance. With desperation fueling my actions, I concocted a plan. I pretended to hear a noise outside, calling out to Andrew that Justin Waller was there, ready to confront him. His eyes widened with a mix of rage and fear as he rushed out, leaving me momentarily unguarded.

Summoning every ounce of strength within me, I managed to free myself from the restraints and stumbled towards the door. The night air hit my face like a blessing as I sprinted towards freedom. Panic and adrenaline pushed me forward, propelling me through the darkened streets, desperate to put as much distance as possible between me and the horror I had endured.

Now, here I am, sharing my story with you, uncertain if Andrew Tate is still out there, searching for me. I don't know if I will ever truly escape the shadow he cast over my life. Every creak of a floorboard, every flicker of movement in the corner of my eye sends shivers down my spine. Will he come for me again?

So, I implore you, dear Internet, to be cautious. There are malevolent forces lurking in the darkest corners of cyberspace, ready to unleash their cruelty upon those who dare to challenge them. My ordeal serves as a chilling reminder that speaking out has consequences, and the line between virtual battles and tangible nightmares can blur in the most terrifying ways.

Stay safe, my friends, and never underestimate the darkness that lies within the heart of those who revel in inflicting pain.

- Harriet Tubman

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