With renewed purpose and splayed hands, I start to hit the roof in a panic.
They just killed someone. I need some new pussy.
His words run through my head. Oh my God, they are going to rape me before they kill me, all five of them.
I start to run my hands frantically over the metal that encases me. How do you get out of a car trunk? Is there a latch? “Help!” I scream. “Help me,” I call out as I slam my open hands on the roof. The car slows down. Shit! My eyes widen.
Is this it? I pant as I listen to their movements, and I hear the whirl of the traffic lights walk indicator. Now! I need to scream now. We are static, stuck in traffic.
I start to bang on the roof with force. “Help me!” I scream. I lift my legs and try to push the lid open, but fuck, it’s so cramped in here. I bang frantically on the ceiling, and I feel around underneath me, grabbing the corner of the carpet. Tools. There will be tools under here. I half roll over and tear back the carpet and grab a metal toolbox. “Help me. I’m in the trunk. I’m being kidnapped. Heeeeeeelp!” I scream.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll come back there and shut you up,”
a male voice growls from inside the car.
My eyes widen. Oh, he sounds scary. I really begin to freak out. I have to get out of here. Now.
I struggle to open the toolbox in front of me in the dark, but eventually it flies open in a rush and a tire iron flings back, hitting me straight in the nose.
“Ah, fuck!” I scream.
Ouch, that fucking hurt. The impact brings tears to my eyes, and I clutch my face. Oh, crap, I think I broke my own nose. I grab the tire iron and hit it on the roof with all of my strength. The impact makes it ricochet back and hits me straight in the eyebrow.
“Ahh!” I scream again. I feel a hot trickle run down the side of my face. If they don’t kill me, I am doing a good job of it myself here.
I keep banging the tire iron on the roof. This has got to be gaining some kind of attention. “Help me,” I yell. “Someone… call the police. Help.”
The car speeds up and I am flung to the back of the trunk. The lights change, the car flies around the corner, and I go flying, sending the tools scattering throughout the trunk so they hit me. The driver turns a right like a maniac, and I slide and hit my head against the side.
“Fucking assholes,” I scream, and I hear them all laugh inside the car. Then the vehicle flies around a left corner and I go sliding again. I can hear the tires screeching as the car races down the street.
I’m going to die. Oh God, I’m going to die. I try to grip onto the metal roof to stop myself from hitting the edge, but I can’t, and as the car flies around the corner I crumple into the hard metal end of the trunk. The tools are flying around and hitting me. Shit. I feel around frantically for the tire iron again. I may need it, but I can’t find it, and my hand feels around the carpeted floor.
Where are you? Where are you?
I bend and feel along the other end of the trunk and finally feel the cold hard metal. My heart is racing as the car races out of control. I need a plan, but what is the damn plan?
Think.
I clutch the tire iron in my hand with white-knuckle force as I try to stop myself from flying around. Whoever opens the trunk is getting knocked out with this fucker. My thoughts cross to Oprah and her sound advice to never go to the second location. I don’t remember much from Oprah, but I do know that she said never go to the second location if being kidnapped—fight like hell to escape because they are going to kill you as soon as you get there.
Oh God, this is great.
I’m already in the fucking car on the way to the second location. I begin to get mad, like, furious mad. How dare they? I’ve had a really fucking bad night and I’m not in the mood for this shit. After about twenty minutes and sixty attack plans, the car slows down and goes over speed bumps.
Where are we?
Adrenaline starts to pump through my blood.
Speed bumps are in parking lots… So that must mean we
are in a deserted parking lot.
The car stops and the men go silent. I close my eyes, knowing this is it.
Holy shit.
My heart is hammering, and I grip the tire iron in one hand and the car jack in the other. If I’m going to die tonight, someone is coming with me. I wriggle around so my feet are facing the opening, and I pull them back towards my chest. I can hardly breathe, I’m so scared. I hold my weapons in my hand and wait. The car doors open and the whole car lifts as the men get out.
Where are we?
I hear them begin to talk as if I have been totally forgotten about and another sickening thought crosses my mind. What if they just leave me in here?
What if I just die a slow death in the car from no water or food? Oh my God.
What do I do? What do I do?
I stay quiet for five minutes as I try to think until I can’t stand it any longer.
Screw this. I am not dying alone in the trunk of a car in a deserted parking lot. I put my tire iron down next to me on the floor and I bang on the trunk lid. “Help me. Let me out,” I call.
The men go silent.
“Just get her out and let her go,” someone says.
“I will be having some fun first,” another answers.
I can’t understand what is said next, but they all laugh out loud and I grip the tire iron in my hand.
Assholes.
I pull my legs back, and as the trunk is opened, I kick out with all my might and connect my feet with a man’s face, knocking him to the ground. I jump out of the trunk and one man comes at me. I swing the tire iron as violently as I can and hit him hard in the head, watching as he falls away. The other men all laugh at their two friends on the ground. Another man comes at me, and I swing the car jack as hard as I can and cut his face open.
Then I run.
As fast as I can, I run across the cement. It’s dark and we are in a parking lot that seems to be near the ocean. I can smell the sea and hear the seagulls. I run with two men chasing after me. I have no defense in these damn high-heeled shoes. They catch up with me easily and tackle me to the ground.
“Get off me,” I scream as I fight and kick. One man hits me across the face, and they struggle to contain me as I wrestle to get out of their grip. They are too strong.
They drag me up from the ground, one on each arm, as I kick my legs out and wrestle to try and get away. They fight with me through the darkness, guiding me back to the car.
One man has his T-shirt off and is holding it up against his face to try and stop the bleeding from my car jack attack and the other two men watch.
One man is leaning on the car watching me intently. I glare at him, and he smirks back.
“Let me go!” I yell as I try to break the gorilla grip the two men have on me. I bend down and they struggle. I kick out again and connect with the man on my left, hitting his balls and he cries out and doubles over. The distraction lets me rip from the other man’s grip and I punch him hard in the face. The man who I hit with the tire jack comes to their aid and helps them hold me down.