Tapes: Girlfriend

Lena had just moved in with her boyfriend, Marcus. He was sweet, a little too quiet, but sweet. The kind of guy who left sticky notes on the coffee maker. “Good morning, starling.” The drawer was in his desk, the one he called his “junk drawer.” But it had a small, new-looking combination lock.

“Tell them what you learned,” Marcus said.

Lena held up a pen. “Right where you left it.”

The tape ended. There was no resolution. No confession. Just a blank, screaming silence. Girlfriend Tapes

Not a number. Not a name. Just that.

“I think you’re a predator wearing a boyfriend’s face,” she said. But she was smiling. It was a joke. Then the tape cut. The room was darker. The blonde woman’s hands were zip-tied to a chair.

The screen went black.

“Find one?” he asked.

“Tell me something true,” Marcus’s voice said.

And more like a countdown.

“Tell them what you did,” Marcus’s voice said, but it wasn’t sweet anymore. It was flat. Empty.

She looked at the drawer. The remaining tapes. Four, five, six. Each one a woman who had loved him. Each one a woman who had tried to leave.