Are you home? I’m on my way
I’m in the middle of typing “I met that woman when she was leaving our place. Can we talk about that?” when my phone dies.
Goddammit.
“Sorry, hi,” I lean forward to speak to the driver. “Do you have a charger up there? My phone died.”
He nods and holds out his hand. I give my phone to him, watching as he plugs it in to the USB cable up front. Then I sink back into the seat as we drive—
Wait.
“Excuse me, are you going uptown?”
When I glance out the window, I realize I’m right. I’m starting to recognize spots I know on the Upper West Side.
“Sorry, sir?” I say, concern lacing my voice. “I need to go downtown. I’m going to the Lower East Side?”
The driver doesn’t respond. He takes a turn that leads us to an on-ramp to the West Side Highway, going north. Anxiety pools in my stomach as my pulse quickens.
“Sir!” I exclaim. “Sir, you’re going the wrong way.”
The driver still doesn’t say a thing, and my nerves begin to shred.
“I’d like to get out now, please,” I choke, fear creeping up my throat. “Right here is fine.”
The car begins to accelerate.
“Let me out!” I yell. “Pull over! Right here! I want to get out!”
The doors lock.
“LET ME—!”
The partition between us rises, imprisoning me in the locked cell of the back of the town car as it accelerates even more.
“LET ME OUT!” I scream, pure panic and adrenaline exploding through my system. I yank off my seatbelt and lurch forward to the divider, pounding on it hard. “FUCK YOU!” I yell. “LET ME—”
“Sit down.”
I jolt violently, gasping as a horrifyingly creepy, metallic, robotic voice rasps through a speaker.
“I—”
“I said sit the FUCK down.”
“Fuck you!!!” I scream at the divider. I whirl back and start to pound on one of the side windows. Then I take off one of my heels and try and use that to smash it. I yelp when the shoe slips and my bare knuckles slam against the unyielding glass instead.
“Sit down.” The robotic voice is tinny through the speaker. “If I have to ask again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
It feels like I’ve been slapped. All the fight goes out of me as my adrenaline is replaced by crippling, paralyzing fear.
“Please,” I whisper, sinking back into my seat again. My arms wrap around myself protectively. “Where are you taking—”
“You’ll see.”
Suddenly, the windows start getting darker, like the tint is getting stronger. I turn to stare helplessly out the window as the highway outside fades to black.
I have no idea how long we drive. Maybe an hour? But when the car stops, it’s completely silent outside.
No city noise. No sounds of other cars, like we’re at a gas station or a rest stop.
Nothing.
The driver’s door opens, then shuts with a muffled thunk. Footsteps crunch on what sounds like dried leaves outside, coming to a stop right next to my door. The windows are still blacked out, and I can’t see a thing.
My pulse thuds as I slowly back away from the door, my breath coming shallowly as I press myself into the far corner of the car, staring at the door, waiting for him to yank it open and rip me out.
The seconds tick by. Then minutes. Then what feel like several more. I swallow the lump in my throat, my breath still shaky and ragged as my eyes dart around the back seat of the town car.
“Hello?” I whisper quietly. I shudder, clearing my throat. “Hello?” I say again, louder this time, waiting for something. Anything. Even for my abductor to laugh at me, honestly. Anything to give me any idea of what’s going on.
There’s nothing.
I grab the door behind me to pull myself up from the little ball I’ve curled into. When I do, my fingers slip over the door handle, pulling it.
The door clicks and suddenly swings wide.
