Breaking Water

3. Admitting

They were lead through a long corridor.

From the ceiling to the floor it was entirely made concrete; the air was stale, smelling like a mixture of mold and some kind of oil. The factory itself used to manufacture tires, but it closed down in the early Eighties due to financial cuts and its location was too far from any of its customers. Over where they walked was a wide brown streak of a stain that Lisa didn't get to see where it went. A few of the doors were open; as they walked by them Lisa tried to see what was inside but the rooms were all too dark.

Wind was blowing, making an eerie sound that went along with the men's boots, like a morbid army drill. Each step Lisa felt more and more worse in her stomach, feeling as if she would get sick at any time. Behind her she could hear the other woman still fondling around her captures, fighting every inch of the way. Lauren, who was right behind Lisa, was so terrified that she urinated as she walked, which made one of the men behind her comment, “Look at this disgusting bitch.”

The walk felt like an eternity. They were heading toward a door at the very end of the corridor; as it got closer all Lisa did was try to imagine the best scenario she could about what they were being lead to. Maybe all they were going to do was rape them; maybe these men had a sick fetish about pregnant women and they were going to participate in a gang rape and that would be all. The idea made her sick, and it wasn't all that possible to her regardless of how hopeful she was. If that's all it were, then why were the men so armed?

When they made it to the door the man on her left knocked three times. With her head down, she waited for a moment until the door was unlocked from the inside, and they were then lead into a large room that was lit up with lights hanging from the ceiling and some spotlights that stood across from them.

Standing in front of the lights were more men, maybe around ten or fifteen. They all wore the same black t-shirts, blue jeans, and boots as the ones who brought the women there.

“Hey Jeff!” one of them called out. “They're here.”

The area of the room reminded Lisa of a gymnasium; it was all concrete, and had large windows on the wall from where they entered. The guys looked as if they were hanging out, waiting, sitting and standing among chairs and beat up office desks. A group of four were playing cards, while the rest just looked on at their new captives with no emotion, their faces still like statues.

Lisa and the two other women were made to stand across from them, wide apart and were told to keep their hands to their sides. The three of them shook from fear and from the cool draft that haunted the room. Lisa kept her hands bulged in fists, trying to focus her sight at the floor beneath her and nowhere else.

One of the men called out again, “Jeff! You coming?”

“Yeah, I'm right here!”

Lisa looked up and saw a man walking from a well-lit doorway on the left side of the room. It was Jeff; he didn't look too different from the other men, other than wearing a jacket over his black shirt. He had a red goatee, and matching red hair that showed underneath a Boston Red Sox cap. He seemed like the leader of whatever this group was, but didn't differ in size either, having a somewhat stocky build while sporting what some would call a “beer belly”.

He walked to the middle of the room and stood just feet away from the women, directly across from Lauren but scanned each of them equally. He turned his head and whistled at his men; two of them ran over, standing behind him pointing their guns at the women.

Lauren with all the courage she had left began to speak, “What are you doing with-”

But Jeff put his finger up to his lips, shaking his head.