Chapter Three: Into the Night

I glance back and forth at the scattered cars, trucks, and motorcycles in the dark. The dark has a way of playing tricks on me sometimes, but I know exactly where I usually parked my car... two cars down from the security pole light for protection when I leave late hours of the night.

Next to the pole light, I look around, but the only thing left is an empty glass beer bottle and cigarette buds. "Where the hell is my car! I need to get away before anyone else exits out of the glass door. Before he does!”

 I know I am running out of time, but I have come across one major problem,  I scan everywhere, even in the places I never park. Roughly, I run my hands through my disheveled hair and tremble in shock. "It's gone. It’s fucking gone."

"Where is my car!" I scream out loud. 

“Who the hell has the fucking balls to steal my car!” Rage pours through my bones, knowing I am doomed. I cannot afford another car, let alone money for a taxi ride home.

Pools of tears fall into the palms of my hands. Uncontrollably, I cry, not bothering to wipe away the flowing tears on draining snot. "H-how could my car be g-gone?"

I walk aimlessly towards the cracked sidewalk. "I-I locked it! I specifically remember l-locking it!"

I hear several horns honk at one another in the distance, following the screeching of metal as someone slams on their breaks. Fear strikes throughout my bones because I know the sound of the horn oh too well. I know this because I have used it on too many accounts to admit. The warning pierces through my ears as I realize it is coming from my vehicle. As I run towards the traffic, all I can do is watch in horror like one of those awful movies you cannot turn away from.

 My car is speeding at least over ninety-miles- per hour backward and heading towards oncoming traffic.

“Oh, my God! Please, no….”

      I wish I could see who has stolen my car as they fly past me, but they are going too fast to make out. The only image I catch is a distorted black shadow in the seat. I cannot even tell the gender. Their shape, though, seems odd, almost inhuman.  

Coming towards my car is a silver SUV. There is a curvaceous woman in her mid-thirties with curly, auburn hair gripping the wheel for dear life. She screams and hits breaks, but it is too late; her SUV slams full force into my car. All I can do is watch in horror as the woman's SUV becomes airborne, flipping several times across the traffic. More cars swerve back and forth. Some make out of the way, some not so much. Her SUV lands upside-down, mangled by a nearby guard rail. 

The SUV's impact causes mine to spiral down the highway three times before it tumbles off the guardrail and down a hill too far for me to see. At the last impact, my car explodes. I watch as ashen-grey smoke fills the night air.

 I watch in fear as the drivers step out of their cars and take pictures while others pound their fist upon their horns. 

People flee from the restaurant. They, too, heard the commotion.  One lady asks, “My, Lord! What happened? Did you see it?”

“Um... uh..” I stammer, not knowing what to say.

“Gosh, I bet whoever was in the car didn’t make it.”

 Within seconds, a black-tinted Phantom Rolls-Royce screeches through the traffic and drives close enough to my feet to make me jump back. The two women hold each other and squeal. The back passenger window rolls down. A driver with brown slicked back hair and black shades staring into the distance. I can see no one else. The tint from the windows makes it barely impossible to see the image. I can decipher that an only part is a man with long black hair and a cane. 

"Get in." His hoarse voice demands from the back seat. 

The two ladies run away, leaving me to face him all alone. Slowly, I take a step backward, not knowing if they have a gun. A door opens from the back. The rough voice demands again, "I said, get in!"

 I shake my head back and forth. "N-no, thank you."

 My head becomes light-headed. I don't know how much more I can handle without passing out. 

"Get in now!" The long hair man demands. 

A black Chevrolet Camaro pulls up directly behind him and slams on the breaks.

This is bad! Really, really fucking bad!

The voice yells to the driver, "God Dammit!" 

The tires screech loudly in my ears, throwing a pile of dust and particles towards my face, causing me to cough profusely. I cover my mouth and nose, but it barely helps. I look up just in time to see a blurry shadow approaching the side of me. The moment he stops, I realize it is the man from the restaurant. In one scoop, he grabs me tightly from behind and drags me towards his car. I kick and swing with all my might, but nothing appears to work. The man’s strength is unbreakable.

  In a single toss, he thrust me into the front passenger seat, causing me to stumble forward. I pull myself off of my stomach and quickly flip my body around and attempt to open the door while he makes his way towards the driver’s side. The man looks at me through the windshield and clicks a button on his key chain. I hear a beep followed by a click. My stomach drops to the soul of my feet. I know he’s locking me inside. 

At an inhuman speed, he makes his way to the driver’s side, and within a blink of an eye, he is sitting next to me with his hands gripping the wheel. He is fast, too fast. He reaches over and slams his door. Fuck. Just fuck.

I shake my head back and forth. “No! I am getting out of here” and attempt to pull the lock on the door. The man rolls his eyes and keeps his hand on the button.

"Are we really going to do this little game?" He challenges.  

With his opposite hand, he turns the engine over. 

“If that’s what it takes!” I argue back and twist the knob harder.

“Just know, if you break it… what is the word you keep politely saying your.. Fucked.” He smirks when I stop pulling on the knob.

“That’s better,” his voice hums, making me feel oddly calm. He reaches down and wraps his long fingers around the gear and shifts it into drive.

Slowly, he takes off through the maddening traffic. Not caring about the people, police, or ambulances arriving. He drives. "Quit trying to escape, Katrina. Like I said before, you are wasting your energy. Save it. You will need it." 

Panic rises in my throat.  "Save it! You will need it…” I gasp in disgust. “What the hell does that mean?"

"You will see soon enough." He answers back from within once again.

I scream at the top of my lungs, "STAY OUT OF MY HEAD, YOU PSYCHOTIC ASSHOLE!"

The stranger steps on the gas, whipping my head backward, and warns, "Screaming is useless, Katrina, besides… Asshole?  Your precious tongue is not meant for such words like fuck and asshole… You really need to work on that, my love."  

“Fuck you, asshole!” I spat back and spit on his floorboard.

The man shakes his head and steps on the gas again. I glance over towards the speedometer. We are traveling one-hundred and twenty miles per hour. I should be scared and put on my seat belt, but I'm not. I should be many things, but for some reason, this man is getting to me on every level possible.

Pointing my finger right in his face, I tell him, "Listen here! You no-good piece of-"

The man turns his head away from the traffic and glares at me. I gasp in shock at the way his calm words do not meet his blood-red eyes. "I know I must upset you, but I will not tolerate you talking to me like this, Katrina. You're​ mine. You will learn to respect me. Rest. We will be home soon."

 He reaches his hand out. I try to back away towards the window, but there is not enough room. The man takes his finger and caresses the side of my temple. I attempt to smack his hand away, but I become sleepy. My eyes become heavier and heavier until I hear his beautiful voice fade into darkness, "Good night, my love."