A middle-aged East Asian woman with straight, black hair and olive skin, dressed in a dark, fitted suit and holding paperwork walked through the door and into the well-lit room, where a middle-aged male official who wore a standard uniform, salt-and-pepper hair and beard on beige skin, sat at the table, opposite three young women.
They had all been questioned separately, but said nothing, only agreeing to respond together. Reluctantly, those in power agreed, in any attempt to get information.
"All right. Ms. Mendes, Ms.-"
"My name is Poppy King." One young woman responded, looking forward at nothing in particular.
The male official sighed through his nose. "Your name is Lauren Mendes."
"My name is Poppy King," she responded with exactly the same cadence as before, and the same blank stare at nothingness.
Self-proclaimed Poppy King was a light-copper-skinned woman, curvaceous and average in height, dressed in red lace, with her dark hair, thick and curly, stopping mid-neck. Her shining eyes, equally dark, still looked at the wall.
Poppy sat at one end, next to another woman, this one with dark, almost black skin, the same shade as her own eyes. Her hair was styled in Bantu knots, with a wide nose perfectly highlighted and soft, plump lips. She was much taller than Poppy, but held similar curves. She wore the same red lace style that Poppy did.
The third was a slim girl with porcelain skin, dark eyes, and wavy chestnut hair atop her head in a messy bun. She looked... young. Her records indicated she just turned twenty-one, but her face was cherubic and doll-like.
The curves of her small breasts were, once again, covered in red lace. The exact same style. Exact. Same.
The female official looked to the three young women there, and started speaking again. "Ms. King, then,"
"Yes?" the three answered in unison.
The man shook his head. "This man," he held a photo, "is a felon. He's a thief, an addict, and all-around con artist. He is not your husband."
The photo showed a man similar in age to the male official, with deep brunette wavy hair that went to his shoulders, and a short, but well-covering beard upon smooth, sun-kissed skin. He wore a light, white fabric that seemed to deliberately show chest hair.
The copper and black woman looked at the photo, each with soft smiles upon their faces. The porcelain woman did not, maintaining her gaze upon the light lavender wall.
The female official spoke directly to her, "Elizabeth?"
"Meadow." Poppy corrected.
"Let her speak for herself." The male official responded, noticeably irritated.
The porcelain girl was then looking down, rapidly shaking her head only slightly to each side.
The female official looked to the girl again. "How about we talk, just the two of us?"
"No!" the girl responded, suddenly gasping and looking at the official.
The dark woman gently held Meadow's hand, looking at her face with a soft smile. "It's okay, Meadow," she turned to the official woman, nose flaring, "we won't let them separate us."
The male official groaned. "We know you something. We can help you if you tell us. Just tell us what you know. Where is he? Where are the other women? The children?"
Silence.
"Where. Is. He?" he asked again.
"Go. To. Hell." Poppy nearly spat the words.
The male official palmed his face. "This is just... ridiculous!"
He sighed heavily in disbelief. "You're not a bunch of naturey nymph fairy creatures. You're Lauren Mendes, Aisha Rivers, and Elizabeth Fyodorova. Jesus."
"No." Poppy said. "We are Poppy, Violet, and Meadow."
"King." Violet emphasized.
------
