He thinks of them as turkeys.To him these girls are nothing more than meat. He sees himself as a hunter, a man who loves fresh meat. And so it begins. They are naked, his girls. There are three of them. He has them in his hunting cabin. Their arms are bound behind their backs, their hands taped. They are gagged with tubing held in place with cable ties. A few feet of chain run from neck to neck, so that they are tethered to one another.

He sits. He tells them about a turkey shoot. As he talks, he assembles his gun. Their little cries and whimpers escalate. Who could have known? One minute you are just walking your dog or sipping coffee in your home. And the next thing you know, you are naked. And he has a gun. And there is really nothing else to do, is there?

When he tells you to run. You run like hell.

He drags them outside and unchains them and starts spewing out pellets, scaring them up good. After all, he wants to be challenged. He’s looking for sport, just a little fun. They run through the woods all in a flurry, screaming, squawking. Open season on girl.

The blond is the first to drop. He takes the others down too, the brunette and the black-haired girl. The marks of paintball drip down their soft skin in red trails. It is quiet in the woods. Their bodies lie still, white, silent.
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