He continued working after Nat went back upstairs, undoing his hands first and then trying to loosen the tape around his ankles. They’d used so much of it. Every time he peeled some away, it made a snapping noise that he was certain they could hear. He was so close to freeing himself when Dell found him and started shouting. Jin wasn’t sure who hit him first, but the force of the blow sent his chair sailing backwards, and Dell started kicking him as he lay on the floor. Not the face, Nat shouted. Not the face—I need him looking right. Jin didn’t know what this meant. He just prayed for it to be over, prayed as he’d never prayed before. When Nat took a kitchen knife from the block, he closed his eyes and waited for the worst, but all he felt was a tug on his ankles as Nat sliced away his bindings. Then they marched him to the upstairs bathroom. Wash your face, Nat shouted. And put this on. He threw a clean white shirt at him, a pair of pants, and a pair of shoes. Jin did as he was told, trying to move as fast as he could. Comb your hair too, Nat said. We’re going to the bank.
The cut above his eye had crusted over badly. The skin underneath was already purple and blue. Jin cleaned off the dried blood and put a bandage over the open wound, but there was no mistaking it was there, no mistaking the bruises forming around his nose. He couldn’t hide the fact that something had happened to him, which wasn’t entirely bad. Jin thought someone at the bank might notice and call the police. Just as he was beginning to feel optimistic about this, Nat opened the door to the master bedroom and shoved him inside. Mae was tied to her bed, splayed like an X, faceup. Marina was on the other bed, tied the same way but facedown. Both of them were naked. Nat tightened his grip on Jin’s arm. I’m leaving the gun with my brother, he said. But if you pull anything at the bank, something bad’s going to happen here.
Jin promised to cooperate. He’d do whatever they asked, give them anything they wanted. Dell kept pacing back and forth beside Mae’s bed. He seemed twitchy, agitated. Come back quick, he said. Then he walked over to Mae and yanked out a patch of her pubic hair. The sound of her wailing, even with her mouth taped shut—it was the worst thing Jin had ever heard. You understand what I’m saying? Dell asked, pulling out another. Come back quick. Nat squeezed Jin’s shoulder. That’s what the tweaked-out fucker can do with his hands, he said. Imagine if I gave him a knife.
Dell continued pacing around the room after they left, muttering to himself like a homeless person on the street. Dummy, he kept saying. Big fucking dummy. Mae didn’t know what he was talking about. She wondered how many of those little packets he’d gone through. There weren’t any left on the end table; the torn envelopes were scattered across the floor. Dell kept studying what was left of Nat’s drugs, walking back and forth to the bureau like a child who knew better. Mae didn’t want him to use them, not if they made him act like his brother. The things Nat had done to Marina—Mae had to crane her head to the side to see if she was still breathing. For a long time, she thought she was dead. Dell left the room and returned several minutes later with something in his fist. She watched him in the mirror, holding a spoon over his lighter and drawing the melted drugs into his syringe. She didn’t like how hesitant he was. She didn’t understand it. Dell didn’t seem like the kind of person who cared about risk. Her only guess was that he didn’t want Nat to be angry with him for taking something that wasn’t his. Dell took the syringe into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. She braced herself for when he came out, but almost an hour passed, and nothing happened.
Mae knew the men had no intention of letting them go, not that they’d ever humored her with the possibility. They’d been too careless from the start. She’d seen their faces, knew their names, carried the shame of them on her body. She wondered if Marina had a roommate or boyfriend who might notice she was missing, but she didn’t want to waste what little time she had left wishing for something so unlikely. No one had called in days. No one was going to come looking for them until it was too late. She felt guilty for leading the men to the house. It was her fault that everything had happened as it did. She tried to say the Lord’s Prayer, but she couldn’t remember the words. All she could do was accept the death that she knew was coming. At the very least, she wanted the men to bury her or throw her body off a bridge so that strangers wouldn’t have to find her naked and tied to her bed.