The car door slammed with a sharp snap, shutting me off from the sounds of the city outside. Isolated in the hum and pressure of the silence of the interior, I acknowledged my driver.
As we both worked to extract my home address from my memory, I could sense his apprehension at picking me up. Regrettably, my ungraceful tumble into the back seat made it pretty obvious that I wasn’t my sober self. I managed to shimmy myself up along the cracked seats in an attempt to straighten myself out, focused on controlling my winces as the dried out leather yanked strands from my hair. I'd lost most of what I'd brought with me, although ever since my friend had taught me the wonders of a crossbody bag, I’d managed to at least keep track of the important stuff. Slouched and mumbling, I’d never felt so self-conscious.
I studied my driver through the mirror. The man was moth-eaten and frumpy with unkempt greying eyebrows and deep set wrinkles. His peculiar set of eyes didn’t seem to fit his worn appearance. I often caught them shifting side to side with an occasional half glance to the back window. He fumbled with the GPS, filling the uncomfortable silence with the impatient tap of his dry fingertips on the phone screen. He let out a wheezy sigh as if something had gone wrong, sending me into a mini panic every few seconds. I pulled my seatbelt across my chest, and it tightened just enough to constrict me when I took a breath.
We took off in a careful acceleration as the car puttered and heaved itself into motion. I leaned back against the stiff headrest in an attempt to ease a cloudy headache that I was starting to lose the ability to repress. I was greeted with the tattered and fraying grey upholstery of the car ceiling. I shut my eyes and slumped over myself burying my pounding head in my hands. It didn't take me long to notice the aged air vent, incessantly rattling in the background and interrupting every thought. I lurched up, trying to conceal my fidgeting as he eyed me from the mirror. I gazed out the window to find something else to hold my attention. The longer I looked through the window, the more I noticed the hazy grime stains and scratches that decorated it. Nothing about the car was reassuring.
“So, uh...Where ya headed?” he asked.
“Home.” I clung onto the end of the word. In a swift motion, he flicked on the right turn signal. That was the wrong way.
“From around here?”
These questions were textbook. He'd have to be a fool to think I'd fall for these distractions.
“Oh, yes. Since I was little. Grew up just there down the river.” I didn’t have a clue where we were, but he wasn’t going to know that.
“Ahh, I see. One of them.” A subtle smile crept through his strange eyes as he chuckled to himself. A pressure began to accumulate in my chest. I kept blinking in hopes of finding myself in another reality or waking up from just another nightmare. My intuition screamed at me.
He mumbled a few words before clearing his throat and aiming yet another question at me.
“Are you okay?”
Was I? How is that possibly his concern? And especially since I’m sure I was being driven to a place that is not my house on a road I have never seen with a man who has already planned how he will get rid of my body. I watched the lines on the road move faster and faster, decreasing in size until the lanes merged together. Or were we driving off of the road? What would it matter if we were?
He raised his eyebrow in search of his response. His eyes zeroed in on me, breaking my tangent.
With little confidence, I muttered, “Yes, I am okay.”
With that, I ripped off my seatbelt, clutched the door handle, and pulled. I hurled myself out in a desperate last go at survival. As I lingered in the air, my thoughts reached their crescendo. The contents of my stomach churned and sent a sick feeling through my body. I collided hard with the pavement. I groaned and heaved in agony for the breath I had knocked out of myself. The screech of tires and red brake lights took my mind momentarily away from the pain as my view of the world slowly started to fade to black.
When my eyes finally focused, the driver hovered above me, staring at me with a perplexed expression. He paused as a car zoomed by, taking his gaze with it. Slowly, he turned back, surveying the scene with his full attention. When he noticed I was conscious, he let out a soft sigh before approaching. He crouched down to me, hesitant to get too close. He asked if I could get up. I made a pitiful attempt to move and cried out when I fell back. I told him no. In an abrupt motion, he reached out to me, scooping me in his arms. I winced when he touched me, as much from the pain as the fear of being so vulnerable. Between laborious grunts, he returned me to the back seat. My injuries forced me to lie across the back seat, my neck crooked from the cramped space. I heard the click of the door’s locking mechanism, sealing my fate. Imprisoned and broken, I cried to myself. There was no escape.
When we stopped, I managed to strain my neck just enough to catch a glimpse of where I had been taken. Through the foggy window glass, I made out a glowing word―hospital. He hopped out, drudged around to my side, and cautiously opened the door before sliding his hands under me. Draped in his arms, I felt helpless. My body couldn't give half the fight it had before. Right before the entrance, I felt myself lowered to the ground. It was cold and rough against the exposed skin of my neck. He stood above me, emotionless and capable. His boots scuffed the pavement as he turned then walked away.
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