Paint The Town Red by Angel Melendez

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Adam and Gabrielle stared at each other intently. Light peeked through the bottom crack of a door at the top of some stairs. They sat Indian style, naked, inside of a large animal crate. They were steeped in perpetual darkness save for the sparse bit of aforementioned light. From this, they were fairly certain they were being held prisoner in someone's basement.
They were dirty with dried blood caked on around their mouths.
Adam could see the look of determination draped over Gabrielle's features. She was getting desperate. She was hungry. She wanted to kill him. He felt the same way. She was his wife but damn it, he needed to eat.
Four long days of starving had made him forget all the good times they'd shared.
Who was going to pounce first? Between them sat a steak knife. Adam recognized it. It was part of a set they had back home. Someone had set it there purposely. Who had done this? It was obviously someone who knew them well.
Adam swept away the idea of deducing who his captor was for the moment. He focused on the knife instead.
He grotesquely thought that with her flesh he could survive at least another week while he figured out how to escape. She'd be able to survive even longer on him. The question now wasn't if he should do it, but how and when.

*

Adam and Gabrielle's most recent Saturday night date began like most every other one. It was a routine that although sometimes annoyed Adam, he was used to and was comfortable with.
He was ready to go, had been for twenty minutes. She was on her third outfit. Each time she'd come out of the bedroom and ask:
"What about this one?"
"Looks great, you look great in everything baby."
"You're just saying that." She'd say with her eyes squinting as if daring him to argue this fact...which he always did.
"No really. You'd look good in a garbage bag if that was all you had."
"You just want to leave. You don't really care."
She was half right. He did think she was gorgeous no matter what, but yes he did want to leave and no, he didn't care what the hell she wore.
"Of course I care," he lied carefully, "but, yeah, I am a little hungry. Could you just stick with that one?"
"Fine." She'd always say and then stomp off like a pouting four year old. "I'm going to put my shoes on!" She shouted from the bedroom. "Is that ok with you? Or do I need to rush out barefoot?"
Adam smiled. She could be as sarcastic as she wanted to be; they were finally leaving.
Two minutes later she re-emerged from the bedroom with a completely different set of clothes. She didn't ask for his opinion this time; she didn't even acknowledge the change. She went on as if the last half an hour had never happened. Adam smiled again. He knew this would happen too.
"Is the bag ready?" She asked.
"Absolutely. Would you like to inspect?"
"Well..."
"Go ahead. I know you don't trust me. That's fine."
"No honey," Gabrielle said soothingly. "I do trust you. But, you don't exactly have the greatest memory. I want to make sure you didn't forget anything."
On their kitchen counter sat a large green duffel bag.

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