Recomposure

Finally realizing what he was referencing, I checked on the two dragonflies Katja had hidden in my hair and found that {if resistance>0}one had been squished, either from being transported here or from the hosing down I had received an hour ago{else}they had both survived my capture{endif}. Fortunately, I had a moment of privacy and the brief fluttering of tiny wings quieted before any of my captors entered.

Reassured that Katja would be able to track me and the team would be staging nearby, I took the moment to check my surroundings. The first thing that I spotted was the sink with an electric hand drier and I immediately turned it on, {if resistance >0}taking the opportunity to dry my sodden clothes, and {endif}covering the sound of me searching through the drawers of the cabinet. Unfortunately, the majority of its contents were the boring things that you’d find at a doctor’s office, like gloves, cotton swabs, and bandages. The only thing remotely useful that I found was a small pair of scissors that probably wouldn’t even break the skin if I tried to use them as a weapon, but could be useful for cutting stuff.

I tucked them into the pocket of my jeans as I dressed and the door opened. I quickly pulled on my shirt as one of the men from before leered at me.

“We go back to your cage,” he said.

I scowled at him, but decided not to fight. Instead, I kept my eyes open and observed everything that I could on the way back. The first thing that I noticed was the door in this hallway had molding and a deadbolt, like you’d expect on an exterior door, meaning that this was probably the ground level and we were being kept in a basement. As we descended the stairs, I noticed that the hallway at their foot extended past my room and had three doors to the right and two to the left. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a closer look, as my “cage” was the first one we came to.

The second man greeted us in the crudest way possible, sitting in a chair staring at some porno mag and stroking himself. When he saw me, he gave a smile full of crooked teeth as he spun the magazine to show me a picture of a bleached-blonde woman giving a man a blow job.

“¿Qué te parece? Apuesto a que te encantaría saborearme,” he said, standing to hold the magazine beside his dick to mimic the stance in the picture.

I attempted a lascivious smile and moved up enough to touch him. Just as he thought he was going to get his fantasy, I moved next to his ear and clacked my teeth together as loudly as I could manage.

The sight of him backpedaling wide-eyed, still holding his rapidly deflating penis in one hand was enough to make me smile and the other guard burst into laughter as he opened the door to my dark room. Reluctantly, I entered and, spotting the matted, knotted brown hair of my cellmate draped over her form, sitting knees-to-chest, in the far corner, I made my way to sit next to her before the door closed behind me and we were left in the dark, once again.