Cinderblock walls painted a horrible green and furnished with only a scarred wooden table and two heavy wooden chairs. Behind her, the heavy metal doo... opens with a mighty creak and in strides a man, huge by anyone’s standards, her Interrogator. She keeps her dark eyes lowered, knowing he’ll see the fear in them if she looks at him. He asks her, in a soft but cold voice, ‘You know why you’re in here, now don’t you want to tell me all about it and go the easy route?’ Slowly, without looking up. Her anger was now only obvious in her breathing and he looked her over, taking note of the various scratches, red marks and bruises she had accumulated during the day, the dried spittle on her chin. She had obviously been obedient to his instructions about cleaning the house—but the other? He stepped closer, almost between her legs, and seizing her chin tilted her face up so that she would have to meet his gaze. As always, the instant Marie looked into his eyes she felt completely exposed to. Yes, proud to be chosen to stand here and wait.Or maybe... maybe next time it will be my trapdoor. If that happens, I'll be hanging, strangling to death. No warning, just the noose jerking tight around my neck. Kicking desperately, hands straining against the ropes, trying to breathe. But there will be no air. After a few minutes I'll get weak. My feet will twitch a little, but that's all. Then I'll black out... and that will be the last thing I ever experience. Nothing more, ever again. But I. He could hear his mom in the kitchen. His step dad was gone already, like most weekend mornings, golfing.He turned the corner into the kitchen, and as if it wasn't already the first thing on his mind, right in front of him was his mom's ass. Now wearing a pair of gray form-fitting leggings, she was bent forward putting some pans away. The leggings she was wearing looked soft, almost like tights and fit like a second skin.He quietly sat down on a stool at the island counter as his eyes moved up.
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