Them

Lauren's eyes flickered open. It felt like someone had thrown sand in them. She was exhausted, only nodding off from time to time. Even when the house was quiet, the fear and stress often kept her awake. Her fear reached new heights when she heard a bunch of voices and multiple footsteps clomping down the stairs. She could sense Boris's tension as well, just a couple of feet away. Suddenly, Janelle came into view with two men by her side that she'd never seen before. Lauren's heart pounded in her chest. Janelle approached Lauren and said, “OK, right here, here, here, and here,” pointing to various parts of her body. Lauren's heart rate sped up even more, not knowing what the hell was going on. Suddenly, two of the guys who had been there all along placed rags over their faces, knocking them out in seconds. When they came to, their skin was irritated in various places. Lauren assumed that it had to do with whatever the two big, burly guys had done to them. Loud, raucous laughter jolted Lauren's heart rate through the basement ceiling. Stone's face then loomed overhead, and she grinned hideously down at her and said, “Next time you go to the media and do interviews on TV or in magazines, you'll have something really entertaining to talk about. And you know what? It will be the actual truth for once!” More evil laughter. Lauren still had no idea what was going on, and Boris didn't seem to have a clue either. She lifted her head as far as she could and found redness mixed with black writing on her chest and upper arm. It seemed to be on her legs as well. That's when it hit her that they had been tattooed. “I love your beautiful tattoos,” Janelle said, confirming her worst suspicions. "They do such great work, don't they? Oh! Let me take a picture for you.” Lauren looked in horror at the snapshot of her near-naked body filled with tattoos on the phone held over her face. On her chest, left upper arm, right lower arm, left thigh, and right calf, literally zigzagging down her body, read the words Janelle Stone was here. Standing at the foot of the cot and making brackets with her hands, Janelle said in a voice similar to that of a game show host revealing a prize someone had won, “Janelle Stone was here!” All three of the guys they had seen since they'd been there stood behind her. They laughed loudly when she turned to face them. Realizing they knew her real name—and the fact that they didn’t seem to care—sent shivers down her spine. Did they know just how dangerous this woman was? Or did they not get it simply because she was a woman and they were men? Or maybe they were just too stupid, as were most criminals. Lauren was horrified at the thought of being tattooed, especially in so many places. She knew they could be removed, but just like with her branded forehead, it would take procedures that would leave her forever scarred. Sadly, the sick bitch had been correct in saying that every time she looked in the mirror, she would remember her. Maybe she wouldn't even have to look in the mirror to remember her. In fact, she was pretty sure she wouldn't. Determined not to give her captors the satisfaction of shedding tears, she blinked them back and thought of Heidi and Timothy. But then the thought of them only made her sadder, and she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see them again. Then a thought occurred to her. Why brand and tattoo her and tell her she would remember her every time she looked in the mirror if she intended to kill her? Stone had been assuring them they would die in the end. Or maybe that was the point—to not keep her end of the deal. Had she not gotten off on the stupid technicalities she had gotten off on, maybe the point she was going to make was that she wasn't going to keep her own deal either. Maybe she was promising death only to surprise them with life. If it weren't for her beloved wife and son, death would almost seem appealing. She’d lost track of how long she’d been held hostage in this basement of horrors. It had to have been over a couple of weeks. This was based on the number of times the sun had risen and set through the edges of the acoustic tiling in the small casement windows. Suddenly, she became aware of loud arguing taking place upstairs. She looked at the one guy sitting nearby. He glanced upward, as if also wondering what the argument was about. The guy rose from his chair and stepped up between the two cots. “I'm going upstairs for a minute. Don't go anywhere, guys,” he said with a wink. Lauren would have slapped that smirk right off his face if she could have. He trudged upstairs, and she quickly glanced at Boris, who glanced over at her at the same time. They still couldn't communicate clearly enough with the gags in their mouths. "Are they going to kill us?" she managed to get across. "Don't know," Boris mumbled. "Keep going back and forth on that one. If we live, we suffer in her mind. If we die, she’s got no witnesses. It could go either way." Footsteps quickly descended the stairs. “What are you two lovebirds talking about?” the same guy who had been there before asked. He slowly trailed his fingers up Lauren's legs despite them now being hairy from lack of shaving, as both she and Boris moaned in protest. “I'm glad you like it,” he said, leering down over Lauren, ignoring Boris. His fingers trailed up her stomach. They both moaned louder. His head then snapped over to Boris. “Ooh, look! Someone is jealous.” His hand was just about to reach Lauren's breasts when the lady of the house came down the stairs. It was the first and only time Detective Gilbert was grateful for the sick twist’s appearance.