You are currently reading from the Prompt #2 Series.
Steven sighed as he ran his fingers through my hair and took tight hold of my disheveled locks, “Lauren, please don’t make me kill you. Please – pretty please with fucking rainbow fucking sprinkles on top!”
“I told you,” I cried, snot making its way down my shirt, “he went to get taco shells!”
“Lauren,” he said, wrapping his around me, “you’re lying to me.”
“No.” I sobbed. “No, no, no…”
“YES!” he screamed, pressing the barrel against my forehead. “You know how I know you’re a fucking liar?! Because it’s been an hour and he still ain’t home.”
And that’s when it hit me…Devin had come home. He’d seen the door kicked in and wandered up quietly to bear witness to me being questioned about his whereabouts with a god damn gun to my head. He’d watched silently as Steve and his minions tossed me around the room – attempting to slap the information out of me…he’d turned his back on me. He’d left me here to die. These were my last moments…and I was spending them with five guys who couldn’t wrap their minds around why anyone would make tacos on a Wednesday.
All twelve of our eyes darted towards the see through rotary phone Devin had gotten me last Christmas. Thank God, I thought, Mrs. Collins must have heard the screaming and was calling to make sure I was all right.
“You answer,” Steve instructed, putting the receiver to my ear.
“Hello?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Baby, did they hurt you?” Devin asked.
“A little.” I lied, trying not to give anything away.
“It’s going to be all right, Lauren. Where are you?”
“On the couch…”
As I whimpered softly, Steve took hold of the receiver and said, “Who the fuck is this?…oh yeah? Who do you think you’re talking to?” he screamed, walking across the floor. “I got ya girl, buddy. And let me tell you something – she’s real pretty. Too pretty for a shit bag like you…you know, since you ain’t comin’ home anytime soon I might just hang up the phone and…”
And then all I could hear was screaming…
Previous * Next