5 comments/ 17022 views/ 10 favorites Following a Twisted Road By: blackrandl1958 I was just getting off work when I saw them. I was a security guard for a big apartment complex. My name is Cale Henry. When I got out of the army I discovered that there aren't many jobs that require killing people and breaking stuff. I joined straight out of high school and I really didn't know how to do anything but fight, march and make up beds really well. I started college using the Army plan and I was doing well. A former sergeant got me the security gig and I was working that in the evenings and going to school in the day. It was almost midnight and a van pulled into the garage. I recognized the van. It belonged to a guy that lived in one of the apartments. There were a lot of parties in his apartment and I got a lot of complaints. We knew each other and shared a mutual dislike. The last time I had a run in with him there was a noise complaint and they were really going at it in there. The music was blasting and when I knocked on the door they didn't hear me for a while. I beat on it pretty hard and someone answered the door. When he saw my uniform he closed the door so I couldn't see inside. "Your neighbors are complaining about the noise," I told him. "If I can hear your music out here in the hall it's too loud. Turn it down." He yelled at someone inside and the music died. It was replaced by the sound of a woman crying out. I couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure. "Open the door," I told him. He didn't want to so I hit it with my shoulder, driving it into his face and making him fall to the floor. In the middle of the room there was a woman. She had on a dog collar with a chain attached to a ring on the wall and that was it. She was riding the guy on the floor under her and another guy was fucking her in the ass. A third guy was in her mouth and there were two more waiting their turn. She was a spectacular blonde and the guys were all black. She was plainly cuming like a bomb and I just shut the door and left. That was three weeks ago. I was watching the cameras and I saw the guy from the apartment get out. Three of his boys were with him and the same woman I saw the time before. The elevator door is next to the door to the security office and when they got to the door I stepped out. "Everything OK?" I asked. "Yeah, we cool," he said. The woman was being held by the arm by one of his boys and she immediately began to struggle. "No! Help me," she screamed. "They're holding me captive! They're raping me!" "She drunk," the guy from the apartment said. "She my girl." "No, I'm not!" she cried. "I have a husband and they kidnapped me. They're forcing me!" "You boys mind stepping into my office and we'll straighten this out," I said. "This ain't none of your business," one of the others said. "This bitch crazy." "Well, we'll get it sorted out then," I said. "Miss, step in here please." The one holding her arm dropped it and took off running. One of his buddies went with him and then there were two. "We going to fuck you up," the apartment guy said. "You're making a mistake," I told him. "Ain't no mistake," he said. I reached inside and grabbed my nightstick. They rushed me and I gave him the end of the nightstick in the belly. He went down and I was moving to the left. The other guy slammed into the door where I had been standing and I gave him a wicked blow to the inside of his thigh. He screamed and went down. They were just trying to get away now and I helped them on their way. That just left me and the woman. She stood there trembling, wearing a blue dress that looked like it had been painted on. Damn, she was hot! "Miss, you OK?" I asked her. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing hysterically. I hurried over and helped her up. She could hardly stand and I took her into the office and sat her down on the sofa in there. She clung to me and just bawled. She was saying something but it was unintelligible. Her crying made it just gibberish. I got her a hand towel and a bottle of water. He held the towel to her face and took a drink of the water. As she began to gain a little control of herself I could hear words. She was saying something about her husband, about being raped and made to use drugs. She had track marks all over her arms. I just kept my arm around her and kept telling her it was over and she was safe now. She finally calmed down enough for me to get some information out of her. Her name was Molly Keene and she had been at a party with her husband. She had a couple of drinks and everything went away. When she woke up she was in this building. She was naked and there was a dog collar locked around her neck. It was fastened to the ceiling, too high for her to reach. After an hour or so the guy that lived in the apartment came in and gave her an injection of something and she went to sleep again. She had been there for a month and this was the first time they had allowed her out of the apartment. "Should we call your husband?" I asked her. "No, I can't let him see me like this," she wept. "Do you want me to call the police?" I asked. "No, two of those guys were policeman," she wept. "They made videos of me. Oh God, what am I going to do?" "Would you like to go home with me?" I asked her. "You could clean up, get something to eat, sleep and then decide what you want to do." "Please, will you let me do that?" she begged. She looked up at me and she had the softest, saddest, biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. "I'll make it up to you, I swear I will." "Don't worry about it," I told her. "I'm glad to help you. I'm off work now and I'll take you home." She never stopped crying the whole drive home. She wasn't sobbing but big tears kept rolling down her cheeks. She asked me what my car was. "It's a 1970 Buick GSX stage 2," I told her. "Do you like it?" "I love it," she said. "It looks like a big bumble bee." I laughed. "I guess it does. The Saturn Yellow with that big black stripe does look like a bumble bee." She smiled a little and her face lit up like a beacon. She was, no doubt, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. The tears kept coming though and the smile quickly faded. When we got to my place I showed her around. The master bath has a big sunken Jacuzzi tub and marble floors. It was my parent's house and when they died they left it to me. I asked her if she was hungry, but she wasn't. I asked her if she would like to take a bath. She nodded and I got her a terry cloth robe, dumped in some bubbles and ran the water. She sat on a chair with her half empty water bottle and watched. I turned on the jets, got her a couple of towels and went out. She was in there nearly an hour. I nuked a pizza and turned the TV on. It was two o'clock in the morning and after I ate a couple of slices of pizza I fell asleep with the remote in my hand. I felt it falling and jerked awake. Molly was easing it out of my hand. She had the robe on and a towel wrapped around her hair. "I'm sorry," she said. "You were looking uncomfortable and I was just going to turn the TV off." "Do you want a slice of pizza?" I asked. She sat down and nibbled on one for a minute. She jumped up and ran to the bathroom and I heard her heaving in there. I went in and got a cool, wet washcloth and washed her face with it. "They gave me drugs and I can hardly eat," she said. "I'm not hungry and when I try to force myself to eat I get sick." "It's OK," I patted her. "Let's get some sleep and maybe you'll feel better." I took her to the spare bedroom and showed her where the light switch was. I was down the hall and across the living room if she needed me and I told her good night. She hugged me like she was drowning and I was a life preserver. I peeled her away and went to bed. In the morning she wasn't up and I knocked on the door. She didn't answer and I called her name. I heard a moan and I opened the door. She was a mess. She had kicked the covers off and her body was covered in sweat. She was trembling like she was freezing to death and she had found a basin under the sink. She had thrown up and she retched occasionally. I felt her pulse and her heart was pounding. I picked her up and took her back to the master bath. She kept mumbling and I could hear "no" and "please don't, I'm begging you." It broke my heart. This little lady was so traumatized and plainly going through withdrawal symptoms from some kind of drugs. I put her in the tub and ran her a bath. She was evidently very nauseous and I got a pan and held it for her. She relaxed in the tub for a while and she seemed to be doing better. I left her there and went and changed her sheets. When I got back her eyes were open and she recognized me. "What's wrong with me?" she croaked. "You're suffering withdrawal symptoms from the drugs they gave you," I told her. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. You won't like this, but you have to drink. I'm going to give you Benadryl to help with the nausea. You'll get dehydrated and die if you don't drink. I'll have to take you to the hospital." "Nooo! Please don't," she started to cry. "I'll try to drink. They'll find out about me!" "Molly, I'm not going to let you die," I told her. "I'll try to keep from taking you, but if I think you're getting too bad I'm going to take you." "Give me some water," she said. I got her an old Knicks jersey I had and dried her off. I put in on her and carried her back to her bed. When I came back with a bottle of water she was asleep. I woke her up and made her drink it. She went back to sleep and I called work and told them I was taking my vacation. I had three weeks coming and I called school and told them my sister was sick. I got them to e-mail me my homework and I was set for a while. I have a sister but she lives in Buffalo and they didn't know that. Molly was sick for two weeks and three times I thought she was going to die. I was ready to take her to the hospital, but she always begged me and it seemed like by an effort of will she got better. On the fifteenth day I was sitting in the living room eating breakfast and watching ESPN and she came out. She was wearing another jersey and she looked better. She was stick thin and her hair was a mess. "That smells really good," she said. "Is that bacon?" It was and I cooked her some. She ate three eggs and almost a pound of bacon. For the next three days she was a buzz of energy. She ate like a horse and she zipped around, cleaning the house until it shone and cooking all our meals. Then it was like a switch turned and she couldn't get out of bed. She cried all the time and she was very irritable. I got online and did some research. They called it post-acute withdrawal. According to the experts it wouldn't last long and they were right. After two days she was up in the morning before me and she made us breakfast. "I'm sorry I was so grouchy with you," she said. "I don't know what's wrong with me. You've been so nice to me and you don't deserve to be treated like that." "It isn't you, Molly," I told her. "This is something you're going to go through for a while. It may last up to two years. You're going to have mood swings. It doesn't hurt my feelings. I know you're just having a hard time." "You're the best person I've ever met," she told me. "I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me. I'll make it up to you somehow." "You're welcome," I told her. "Molly we need to talk about what you're going to do now. You're cleaned up from the drugs except for the long term affects. What do you think you want to do? Do you want to contact your husband? He must be worried sick." "If he is, why isn't there a missing persons report out on me?" she asked. "I looked on the internet. There's not a word about me being missing. It hasn't been on any news reports. There isn't a word about me on the internet except old stuff. I even checked his Facebook. He hasn't mentioned me. I think he had something to do with it, Cale. He's the one that got me the drinks." "Don't you think someone could have slipped something into them without him knowing?" I asked. "It's possible, but if your wife was missing wouldn't you be raising the roof?" she said. "I think he gave me to those men. I'd suspected he was having an affair and I think he believed he could just get rid of me. I think those men were going to kill me when they got tired of me." "Jesus Christ, Molly! Who would do something like that?" "A really rotten person," she said. "You have no idea what those men did to me, Cale." "I don't want to know," I told her. "I can imagine." "Well, I need to tell you," she said. "I need to put this behind me and deal with it. If I don't talk to someone I'm going to wind up killing myself. You're my only friend, Cale. Please, talk to me. Let me talk to you." "OK, Molly, but are you sure you want to relive all that?" "No, I don't want to relive it but I need desperately for you to listen to me and let me grieve. I need you to tell me it's going to be OK and that I'm not destroyed as a person. I nearly am, Cale. You're the only thing keeping me sane right now." She was sitting on a barstool across the counter from me and I went over and picked her up. I carried her to the sofa and sat down with her on my lap and held her. "You aren't broken, Molly," I said. "You're bent, but we'll get through this. I know it was horrible, but you're going to be fine." "I don't suppose you know what it's like to be raped," she said. "I'm not sure any man can understand that. Those men raped me hundreds of times. I was there nearly a month. There were four of them and they all raped me at least twice a day." Her voice began to break and she began to sob. I just squeezed her tighter and she continued. "They gave me drugs constantly and they kept me chained up like a dog. The worst part wasn't the rapes or the beating. It wasn't being degraded and abused. I could always tell myself that it wasn't my fault. The worst thing was that they made me cum. They raped me and they tortured me. They would bring me right to the edge of orgasm and then keep me there for hours. They would make me beg to cum. I'd have to tell them that I was a slut and that I wanted them to fuck my cunt. They made me say that I was a slut for big black cock and they wrote degrading things like, slut for black cock, on me with magic markers." She was sobbing uncontrollably now. "The really awful thing was that I did. I needed to cum so badly that I would beg. I would have done anything. They kept me like that for the first three days. They would fuck me and leave me tied up with vibrators in me. They gave me drugs that made me so sensitive and horny that I thought I was going to die. They kept telling me I would have to beg for it. The fourth day I couldn't stand it anymore. I just gave up and did whatever they told me to do. Do you know how many times they made me do that? Do you know how many times they made me cum in that month? Does that turn you on, Cale?" "You turn me on, Molly," I told her. "The idea of making you cum, turns me on. The idea of torturing you and degrading you disgusts me. Those men aren't human, Molly. You used a key word there with everything you said. They 'made' you do it. You didn't have a choice. I used to be in the Army. I remember once we had taken a prisoner. Some spooks came around and "interrogated" him. He was a strong man. He was a religious nut job that thought killing Americans was holy and that Allah wanted him to do it. If anyone ever had a will not to give in, that man did. Those spooks tortured him. They didn't use sex like those men did to you, but they used drugs. They used everything in the book and he broke. He was a gibbering wreck and he would have done anything to make the torture stop. I got guard duty one night and I saw what they were doing to him. I nearly killed those spooks. I would have if they hadn't pulled me off. Humans don't torture other humans. The point I'm trying to make is that you didn't have a choice. Everyone has a breaking point." "Yes, but I came for those men. I begged them to make me cum." "I know that. I'm ashamed to tell you this, Molly, but I saw you. Some of their neighbors made a noise complaint and I went to that apartment. I saw you, but I thought you were enjoying yourself so I left you there. I'm so sorry." "That's what I'm telling you," she said. "I was enjoying myself! I was cuming and begging them to make me cum." "Did you go there voluntarily?" I asked her. "Did you ask to be fucked? We're you a willing participant in any of that? Would you have done any of that voluntarily? The first time you had a chance you asked me to help you. You didn't want to be there. None of this is your fault! You're the victim here." "No, I would never have done any of that if I had a choice," she said. She was beginning to calm down and she snuggled into me, rubbing her face on my chest. My shirt was wet with her tears and I just stroked her silky blonde hair and held her. She looked up at me. "Do you think I'm disgusting, Cale?" "I think want they did to you is disgusting," I told her. "I think you're nearly perfect, Molly. I think that when this is just a memory, sort of like a bad dream, you'll be the girl of someone's dreams." "Did you mean it when you said I turn you on?" she asked. "You're gorgeous," I told her. "You don't need me to tell you that." "I don't feel gorgeous," she said. "I feel dirty and cheap. I feel weak. I feel like I should have been able to keep fighting." "You did keep fighting," I told her. "That's why you asked me to help you. If you had given up you'd still be there if they hadn't killed you by now." She settled in on my lap and we just shared the contact. I was really surprised that she'd let any man touch her after what they'd done to her. Maybe she trusted me because I had taken her away from them. For whatever reason, I wasn't about to let her go. It was months before the periods of depression began to ease up. They became less and less frequent over time. After six months we started going out. I'd take her with me to the store or she'd go to school with me and stay in the library. I had quit the security job and was doing an internship with the company I hoped to work for when I graduated. I really didn't need to work for a long time. My parents had left me pretty well off and I hadn't spent much while I was in the army. She had been living with me for eight months when she started to crack. I came home from school and she was crying on the sofa. I took her in my arms and she clung to me. "What's wrong, Molly?" I asked her. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. "I feel like I'm going to explode. I keep remembering how I felt when I was on drugs and those guys were fucking me. I don't know how to describe it other than hunger. I hate myself for feeling like this but I feel like I itch inside. I want to go out and have someone fuck me like a slut. I feel like I want to do drugs and just let myself go. What's wrong with me, Cale?" I tried to reassure her. "It's just a reaction to what happened to you, Mol. Those neurotransmitters in your brain were suppressed and your brain is still overproducing. You got used to those endorphins and it makes you feel like that." "What can I do?" she asked. "I don't want to feel like this. Help me, Cale." "I'm here for you," I said. "What do you want me to do?" "I've been with you for eight months," she said. "Why haven't you made love to me? Is it because I'm spoiled?" "You aren't spoiled," I said. "I didn't think you'd want me to do that. God damn it, you've been through so much that I didn't want to add to it by hitting on you." "I want you to," she said. "Remember how I told you I felt dirty? I think you could make that feeling go away. If you made love to me I maybe wouldn't have this feeling. I'm trying to tell you I love you, Cale. I'm in love with you and I want to make love to you." Following a Twisted Road I carried her to my bed and that's what we did. We were lying there panting. She was half across me and she was smiling. "You know how to feed a hungry girl," she smiled up at me. "I didn't know if this was going to work. I was afraid I was broken. I still may be. I may need this a lot." I held her tightly. "I'll give it to you a lot," I told her. "Would every day be enough?" "I was thinking about in thirty minutes," she purred. It didn't take ten. That was the beginning of us making love. She still had periodic bouts of depression and sometimes the trauma of those events came back and she clung to me for dear life. She went downhill for a month or so and then she started getting better again. I thought she needed closure. She was afraid to go out of the house without me. It was impossible for her to work and she refused to see therapists. "You're all the therapy I need," she kept telling me. I knew I would have to do something about her terror of being outside without me. I think she kept thinking she would run into one of the guys that raped her or her husband. I talked to a few of my old Army buddies and they recommended a PI to me. Her name was Patricia Macalla. The guys I talked to told me she was as soft as a marshmallow inside but hard as nails on the outside. I called her and she made me an appointment. There was a cute little girl with black hair in the office when I got there. Miss Macalla was a tall, plush black girl. She was smoking hot and I liked her right away. She introduced the girl that was with her. "This is Andrea Davis," she told me. "She's my lover. She has an interest in kidnapping cases. With your permission I'd like her to hear about this." "OK, I guess that will be fine," I was a little taken aback. No one had mentioned that Miss Macalla was a lesbian and Miss Davis sure didn't give off that vibe either. Miss Davis laughed. "I think you shocked the man, Patricia. We aren't lesbians, Mr. Henry. We love each other and we have sex. We like men too. In fact... " "Andrea, we don't fuck clients," Miss Macalla said. My mouth was hanging open. It took me a minute to get my brain in gear. "I'm with someone," I said. "Not that I wouldn't... I mean... " "Relax," Miss Macalla said. "You're safe. I'm Patricia and she's Andrea. We're going to call you Cale." "Well, here's the story." I laid it all out. Everything we knew or suspected. I had dropped by the old apartment building and picked up the security tape from the incident in the garage. I had the name of the guy that had rented the apartment and his last known information. The apartment manager had done a credit check on him and we had quite a bit of information. I gave her Molly's information and what we knew about her husband. "What, exactly, do you want to do with the information we find out," Andrea asked. "Molly is terrified to go out of the house," I said. "She may always be like that. When you're kidnapped and raped hundreds of times for a month, tortured and addicted to drugs, it's pretty tough to get over. I know she never will as long as those guys are out there. I love her and I'm going to do something even if you can't help me. How much do you want to know?" "We want to know everything," Patricia said. "I'm going to kill them all," I said. "You don't seem like the type," Andrea said. "You don't know my type," I told her. "I do," Patricia said. "I work with some of your type. You're a war vet and if you need to be you're a stone killer. You won't do it unless you or someone you love is threatened. Yes, I know you, Cale Henry. The problem is, what happens to Molly if you go to jail?" "I'll find a way," I told her. "Why don't you let me find the way?" she asked. "I'll set the situation up and you take them down." "That's what I was hoping for when I came here," I told her. Andrea, are you sure you want to be part of this?" "I'm sure," she said. "I love her just looking at her picture. I can't bear the thought that that lovely girl is suffering because of scum like that. I can't stand thinking about what they did to her. You're pretty impressive too, Cale. I'll do anything I can to help you. I won't kill anyone, but I'll help get the information you need so you can do it." "Why don't you go to the police," Patricia asked. "They have a video," I said. "It would look like she was enjoying it." My voice broke. "They drugged her and tortured her sexually until she begged for it. She said two of them were cops." "Jesus Christ!" Patricia swore. "We'll make them pay, I swear it, Cale." I paid them a hefty fee and went home to Molly. I told her what I had done and she was horrified. "I can't let you do that, Cale," she wept. "What if something happened to you? What if you get hurt? What if you go to jail? Please, don't do this. I'll go out. I'll get a job. I'll do anything! Please, I love you and I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you. What would I do?" "I'm going to fix it so that if anything were to happen to me, you'd be taken care of," I told her. "Patricia and Andrea are going to make sure of that, but nothing is going to happen to me. I know how to fight, baby. That's what I'm best at. These guys don't stand a chance." "What are you going to do to them?" she asked. "What do you want me to do to them?" "I want you to stay away from them," she sobbed. "Please Cale, I'm really scared." "Molly, look at me," I took her beautiful face in my hands. "If they were helpless, right here in front of you right now, what would you do?" "I'd torture them," she wept. "I'd harm them so that they couldn't ever do this to anyone else. I'd damage them and turn them loose and let them live out their miserable lives as helpless cripples." "That's what I thought," I said. "That's what we're going to do, but we aren't going to let them live. I'm going to kill them, Molly. The nightmare is going to end and you won't ever have to think about it again. I love you and I want to marry you and have four kids. I can't do that until you're out of this nightmare." She threw herself on me and pushed me back over on the couch. She practically tore our clothes off and pressed her beautiful, naked body against mine. When we were skin to skin she became as soft as a kitten. She kissed me from head to toe. Every inch of my body felt her lips. Her nipples were hard enough to shatter and she scraped them all over me. She was so wet she dripped on me and she covered me with her juices as she rubbed her hot little pussy over my body. "I love you, Cale," she whispered over and over. "I want to marry you but I only want two kids." She took me in her mouth for the first time. "I want to do everything with the man I love," she whispered. "Not like with those sick bastards, but because I love you and I want to give you everything." Being inside her was like being inside a furnace. Molly burnt hotter than ordinary people. Kissing her, being inside her always felt like she was running a fever. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe she was with me. We made love like teenagers on their first date. She came for me like a string of firecrackers and for the first time since we'd been together she stopped first. The look on her face was indescribable. She looked like she was glowing. We rested our sweat slickened bodies together and just cuddled for hours. She whispered to me and I have no idea what she said, but they were words of love and contentment. I was in a daze of euphoria and she was too. "Cale, I know you were in the army," she said. "I saw what you did to those two creeps in the garage. How good are you? Tell me a story about when you were in the army." "I'm not proud of that," I told her. "I was young and stupid. I bought into the whole 'keep America safe' thing. It didn't take me too long to figure out that what we were doing had nothing to do with 'keeping America safe.' How does going to some foreign country and killing people in their homes 'keep America safe?'" "I don't know," she said. "I think you should be here in America if you want to keep it safe." "I don't know why we were there. It just became about staying alive and keeping the guy next to me alive. The best way to do that is to become deadly. I figured that out. We had targets selected for us and we went out and got them. I was more like a SWAT policeman than a soldier. We'd get information about where a person the higher ups wanted was and we'd go get them. They told us five terrorists were going to be at a wedding and we were tasked to capture or kill them. I remember it every day. We took our positions outside the mosque and waited for the group to get there. When they got there the bride and groom got out. They had three kids with them. The terrorists we were supposed to be taking were in a second vehicle and there must have been 200 people in that wedding party. As soon as our targets were in the clear we made our move. We ran toward the party and one of them had a gun under his robes. I don't know who started shooting but it was a blood bath. People came out of the surrounding houses and started shooting at us. I took cover behind one of the vehicles the wedding party had come in. I was crouching there and I looked down. There was a little girl lying there. She was one of the kids with the bride. She had on a little white dress and she was dead. I don't know who shot her, but the side of her face was ripped off. She only had one eye left and it was staring at me like she was accusing me of killing her. I went crazy." Molly held me tightly as I sobbed out the story. "They killed nine of us right there in the street. There were three of us left and we fought our way out of that neighborhood. Those scars you kissed came from that fight. I got hit five times. One of the three of us made it three blocks and we were all wounded. There were two of us left and my buddy couldn't walk. He had been hit in the leg three times. He lost that leg. We got pinned down in a garden behind a wall. We were there nine hours before they found us. I don't know how many men I killed that day, but they haunt me. They told me I was a hero, that I'd saved my buddy's life. They gave me two medals for that. When they were putting them on me all I could think about was that little girl, accusing me with that one eye. I didn't feel like a hero, I felt like a piece of shit. I got out as soon as I could but there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about that little girl. I'll never fight again for lines on a map. I'll fight for you, Molly. I'm damned good at it and I'll win. Then maybe the nightmares will go away for both of us." She looked into my eyes for a long time. "We're both kind of broken, aren't we, Cale?" "Yes, but we're not going to stay that way," I told her. "The difference between me and you is that I volunteered for my nightmare. You didn't have a choice and we're going to take their choices away too." It took a month for Patricia and Andrea to get all the information we needed. They kept us posted and I was very impatient. They kept me calm and Andrea flew out and stayed with us for four days. I think she and Molly fell in love the first day. Andrea was as sweet as honey and she was so kind and compassionate with Molly that they became very good friends. Patricia came two days later and she stayed with us too. She had the locations of all five men and we put our plan into action. Patricia leased an abandoned factory building that had a basement vault. It was about twenty by twenty and I took tools and made it into a dungeon. I screwed eyebolts into the concrete and we bought chains and welded them to handcuffs and the bolts. Patricia came up with some sort of medieval looking leather masks. She said she got them at an S&M fetish store. I didn't want to know what they were used for. She had a whole bag of that kind of stuff and I shuddered every time I looked at it. We talked and I decided to take Molly's husband first. His name was Jonah Keene and he was a commercial artist. He had a new, live in lover and he still hadn't reported Molly missing. He worked late every Wednesday and he was the last person to leave the building. I rented a van and Patricia drove. She had a big, angry looking guy with her. His name was Roman and he looked like a skinhead. He was huge and had tattoos all over his bald head and his arms were covered. She introduced him and said he was going to be our jailor. "Roman doesn't like women or black people," she said. "He likes men and he likes pain." "So, how do you get along with Patricia?" I asked him. "She's sort of a black woman." He glared over at her. "I'm afraid of her," he growled. "Besides, she saved my ass twice. I owe her, but this is going to be all about fun." I shivered. "Jesus, Patricia; you know some pretty damn odd people." She just laughed. "I know you," she said. We parked outside Jonah's building away from the camera's by his car and when he came out I hit him with a tazer. He went down and Roman and I wrapped him up on duct tape and loaded him into the van. We took him to the dungeon and trussed him up like a Christmas Turkey. We left him there and went after the apartment guy. His name was James Worth and he had a new apartment. There was a party going on when we got there. We put on ski masks and went in with combat shotguns. There were six of them and they had a girl in a collar. Two of them tried to fight and they had to go down. It took me about five seconds to fill them full of buckshot. The girl was on top of Worth and we caught him with his pants down, so to speak. The bonus was that we got one of the other guys. His name was Reggie Thomas and we tazed them all. It took a while to get them in the van and Patricia took the girl off while Roman and I put the others in the dungeon. It was getting crowded and we had more prisoners than we had gear for. Roman took the spares away and I left them to his tender mercies. It took us a week to get the other two. We got them both at the same club when they came staggering out. Our lineup was complete and we had all five of them in their cozy little dungeon. I asked Patricia what I should do. I didn't want Molly involved but I knew she might want to be. Patricia was totally opposed to the idea. "Jesus Christ, Cale; I can't believe you're even thinking about it. Hasn't that poor girl been traumatized enough? What the hell?" We finally got a plan together that she needed to know they wouldn't be around anymore. I would bring her to see the bodies after they were dead and that would be the end of it. They didn't die pretty. Roman used them like two dollar whores and after two weeks they were done. They couldn't even scream anymore and I killed them all with a knife. I brought Molly to the warehouse and she just stood and looked at them. Tears were rolling down her beautiful face and she turned away. I took her away and we torched the place. Patricia and Andrea stayed one more day and we had dinner together at our house. It wasn't exactly a celebration, but it was closure. They made us promise to stay in touch and come and visit them. The police identified the bodies and they started looking for Molly. She got in touch with them and we were able to convince them she hadn't seen Jonah for over a year. She was a free woman and she finally started leaving the house without me to go to the store or just out for a walk. It took her five years to feel secure enough to get a job. She had a teaching degree and she got a job teaching kindergarten at a school near the house. I graduated from college and got a job as a mechanical engineer. Molly loved teaching the little kids and after three years she told me she wanted to have a baby. I reminded her that we weren't married and she asked me what I was going to do about that. I knew what I wanted to do. I bought a ring. It was a big sapphire surrounded by three smaller diamonds and I took her to the best restaurant in town. I knelt by the table after dinner and proposed. Her eyes were glistening and she jumped up and shrieked. "Yes, oh my God yes; I will marry you Cale." Everyone in the place applauded and I carried her out. We made love all night and she threw away her birth control pills. We got married in June and Patricia and Andrea were her bridesmaids. I kidded Patricia that Roman was going to be my best man, but I never saw him again, thankfully. My boss stood up for me and Molly was radiant. She was growing a little baby bump but she was the most beautiful bride in history to my mind. We've been married twelve years now and we have two beautiful little girls that look just like their Mom. Molly's still teaching kindergarten and I'm going to get my fifth promotion next week. I came home last week and Molly was at the sink looking out at the back yard. She was crying and I slipped up behind her and folded her up in my arms. "Mol, are you OK?" I asked her. She nodded. "I don't itch inside anymore," she said. "I'm Ok, Cale. I'm finally OK. Look out at the girls. That's my life now. You, me, them; that's all that matters. Are you OK, Cale?" "As long as I have you," I squeezed my beautiful wife and the eye wasn't there to accuse me.