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The Rescue
Arlene didn’t think of the women she took as people. She didn’t care to know their name or what they did for a living. Didn’t care for much beyond what she’d learned while staking out her prize, while following them and watching and waiting for the best opportunity to take them. She didn’t look at them as victims either. They were all a part of her grand plan. She’d left the bodies all over the city, adorned with her artwork and faces covered in mud. They could be anyone. They were anyone.
The blonde one that she’d taken wasn’t much of a screamer. That was... disappointing. Usually the good girls broke first. The other women, the broken, tarnished ones. They’d seen more, so it took longer. But this one? This one was surprising. The whore had broken before the good girl in this case. Instead of screaming, the blonde had doled out several threats that first day. There were less threats by the second day. Soon, she would scream just as much as the woman in the room down the hall.
Arlene wasn’t too worried about the friends and family that would supposedly find her and make her pay. No one was looking for a woman. And certainly, no one was looking for her. She lived a quiet life outside of this place. She visited the tea room regularly-there were so many lovely girls there. She walked her dog, ate in diners, made small talk with the neighbors. She was careful not to linger for too long with any of the ladies that she took. The neighbors might start to question things if she wasn’t home by sunset every night like clockwork. She certainly did make it home at that time, only to sneak out yet again so she could keep a watchful eye on her prizes through the night. And then she slipped home just before dawn so everyone could see her leaving in the mornings.
She would break this one too. In the end, they all welcomed oblivion. When she sensed that they were ready to welcome that final departure, she was happy to grant it like the merciful artist that she was.
----
Mary wasn’t sure if she’d been in the dingy room for hours or days. She thought it might have been at least a day or two because her kidnapper had had time to carve up both her arms and had fed her at least a few meals. The Slayer didn’t talk much but seemed to want to take her time with the torture. There was just as much time spent cleaning Mary’s wounds, feeding her, caring for her. And yes, her. It had been a surprise when Mary had gotten the first glimpse of her captor, who was a woman not much older than her. A woman who probably wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those high society clubs. She was a classic beauty, and her expression was permanently fixed with a cold and remote stare. She never made eye contact with Mary, never made conversation. She only came in the room to carve more intricate designs in Mary’s flesh or to offer meals or medical aid.
Currently, Mary hadn’t seen the woman in awhile. She’d heard screams from somewhere else in the building and she couldn’t help but feel like she should be helping, not tied to a godforsaken chair. She was half-conscious and trying to call up the determination she’d had when she’d first come in, that knowledge that no matter what else happened, the people that mattered the most would hunt this woman down and make sure she didn’t hurt anyone else again. There had been a good amount of hope that they’d find her in time, but Mary was starting to lose hope. She was starting to let her mind wander down the darker path of what might happen to the people she loved if this didn’t have a happy ending. This was going to kill her parents, she knew that. And Johnny. What were the odds of something like this happening a second time to someone he cared for? And Rob. And Cas. There were a lot of people who were very good at blaming themselves and Mary couldn’t help but think that she was letting them all down.
Her head lolled to the side just a bit as she drifted in that half-conscious state, trying to get at least a little sleep before the torture started anew.
The blonde one that she’d taken wasn’t much of a screamer. That was... disappointing. Usually the good girls broke first. The other women, the broken, tarnished ones. They’d seen more, so it took longer. But this one? This one was surprising. The whore had broken before the good girl in this case. Instead of screaming, the blonde had doled out several threats that first day. There were less threats by the second day. Soon, she would scream just as much as the woman in the room down the hall.
Arlene wasn’t too worried about the friends and family that would supposedly find her and make her pay. No one was looking for a woman. And certainly, no one was looking for her. She lived a quiet life outside of this place. She visited the tea room regularly-there were so many lovely girls there. She walked her dog, ate in diners, made small talk with the neighbors. She was careful not to linger for too long with any of the ladies that she took. The neighbors might start to question things if she wasn’t home by sunset every night like clockwork. She certainly did make it home at that time, only to sneak out yet again so she could keep a watchful eye on her prizes through the night. And then she slipped home just before dawn so everyone could see her leaving in the mornings.
She would break this one too. In the end, they all welcomed oblivion. When she sensed that they were ready to welcome that final departure, she was happy to grant it like the merciful artist that she was.
----
Mary wasn’t sure if she’d been in the dingy room for hours or days. She thought it might have been at least a day or two because her kidnapper had had time to carve up both her arms and had fed her at least a few meals. The Slayer didn’t talk much but seemed to want to take her time with the torture. There was just as much time spent cleaning Mary’s wounds, feeding her, caring for her. And yes, her. It had been a surprise when Mary had gotten the first glimpse of her captor, who was a woman not much older than her. A woman who probably wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those high society clubs. She was a classic beauty, and her expression was permanently fixed with a cold and remote stare. She never made eye contact with Mary, never made conversation. She only came in the room to carve more intricate designs in Mary’s flesh or to offer meals or medical aid.
Currently, Mary hadn’t seen the woman in awhile. She’d heard screams from somewhere else in the building and she couldn’t help but feel like she should be helping, not tied to a godforsaken chair. She was half-conscious and trying to call up the determination she’d had when she’d first come in, that knowledge that no matter what else happened, the people that mattered the most would hunt this woman down and make sure she didn’t hurt anyone else again. There had been a good amount of hope that they’d find her in time, but Mary was starting to lose hope. She was starting to let her mind wander down the darker path of what might happen to the people she loved if this didn’t have a happy ending. This was going to kill her parents, she knew that. And Johnny. What were the odds of something like this happening a second time to someone he cared for? And Rob. And Cas. There were a lot of people who were very good at blaming themselves and Mary couldn’t help but think that she was letting them all down.
Her head lolled to the side just a bit as she drifted in that half-conscious state, trying to get at least a little sleep before the torture started anew.