Rude Ruby

08: Drive me Home

Watch your thoughts, they become your words: 08  Drive me Home

I gritted my teeth, eyes locked on the screen. What kind of twisted game was this?

Fear clawed at my gut, sharper than anything I'd felt before. I'd dealt with prank calls, threats—but this was different. This was real. A cold, unrelenting terror.

The voice, rough and distorted, crackled through again. "Hit the gas."

"Why?" My voice was barely steady.

"No questions. Hit. The. Gas."

"Who are you?"

"Hit the gas. NOW."

"Eh, paano kung ayaw ko? Come on, you think I'd fall fof this—" I froze as the monitor flickered, showing Chad's car parked outside the school gate, waiting for me.

A wave of fear crashed over me but it quickly shifted into a hot surge of anger.
"Ano bang problema mo? Stop this! You don't know who you are messing with!"

Biglang tumahimik ang kabilang linya ngunit sumunod ang nakakalokong pag tawa ng kung sino sa huli.

"Kids..." the voice sneered, sounding like a nail scraping inside my ears. "If I were you, Croce, I'd hit the gas. Or your friends' heads blow up in flames. The car's rigged."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and ny grip tightened on the wheel. My mind raced, my heart pounding. How the heck did it even know my fucking name? Pressure was closing in, squeezing every ounce of doubt from my bones.

"Clock's ticking,'" the voice taunting, "Hit. The. Gas."

The words rang through the tense air, sending a flood of urgency and panic through every fiber of my body. He couldn't be serious, could he? "Now... Croce. Hit it now!"

Unable to comprehend the fact that the voice had mentioned my name for the freaking second time... It was a name that only those close to my family knew.

I couldn't even breathe, startled, attempting to absorb the consequences of the situation. 

My hands trembled as I tightly gripped the wheel, nararamdaman ko na ang panunuyot ng aking lalamunan habang matindi ang pag pipigil ko sa kabang kanina ko pa pilit na tinatanggal.

I felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. The pressure from the call weighed on me like an invisible snake, tightening its grip around my lungs.

Impatiently, the voice exclaimed, "What's taking you so long? Do you want your friend to die—?!" 

Frustrated, I snapped back, "Alright! Just shut the hell up!" 

 In response, the voice laughed mockingly and shouted, "HAHAHA, then do it, you dipshit! Make it a hundred." 

 Confused and alarmed, I questioned, "What? Are you insane?!" 

The voice grew more menacing, warning, "Hit it, or you'll be losing two lives just to spare one!"

What did he mean by that???

Despite my lack of understanding of the seriousness of the situation, I found myself almost reflexively obeying the command, pressing down on the accelerator pedal until the meter's hand hit an astounding 100 miles per hour.

Every nerve in my body appeared to pulse with eagerness, fueled by a combination of terror and adrenaline, as I drove the car forward with frantic purpose.

"Drive straight and hit it."

"What? Hitting what?!" I muttered.

"Hit it! Hit it! Hit it!"