Kidnapped

Chapter Three - Motel.

As we approach the car, I glance up and down the empty street, my heart pounding in my chest. There's no sign of houses, no people, nothing but a long stretch of empty road bordered with trees. The darkness stretches endlessly, suffocating, and even though I dont want to admit it, I'm terrified. My legs tremble beneath me, and tears keep streaming down my cheeks, unrelenting. I don't know what to say-if I should say anything at all-but he doesn't give me a chance. Before I can muster a word, he yanks the back door open and shoves me inside with a force that makes me stumble, the door slamming behind me with a cold finality.

He climbs into the front seat, locks the doors, and the engine growls to life. I instinctively curl up on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, my body aching in places I didn't even know could hurt like this. A sharp, searing pain pulses between my legs, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

Everything's a blur. My mind is spinning, trying to grasp what just happened, but nothing makes sense. There's a sick, heavy feeling in my stomach like I've done something horribly, unforgivably wrong. That kiss... why did I kiss him? It was pure instinct-something to keep him from hurting me. But the guilt that settles over me is suffocating. Shouldn't I feel relieved? Instead, I feel like I betrayed myself, or maybe worse, like I betrayed some invisible line I didn't even know existed.

A soft sob escapes me, trembling in the quiet space of the car. I bury my face in my arms, wincing as every movement sends fresh waves of pain through me. I try to comfort myself, but nothing helps. The pit in my stomach only grows deeper, darker.

I hear the seat shift, and I know he's looking back at me, watching. But he doesn't say anything.

"I live by the gas station..." I mumble, my voice barely a whisper between sobs. "Please, can you just drop me off there?"

He laughs-cold, humorless. It sends a chill down my spine. "The gas station I just robbed? Right. That sounds perfect," he says, his words dripping with sarcasm.

---

A suffocating weight of anxiety settles over me, and my pulse quickens, pounding in my ears. As the car glides beneath the occasional flicker of street lamps, I sit up, quietly peering out the window. We're edging back into civilization, the dark edges of the city slowly giving way to familiar businesses, their neon signs flickering in the distance. My heart skips a beat when I spot the movie theater. I press my hand against the cold glass, desperate.

"The movie theater! Please, can you drop m-"

"Stop talking."

His voice cuts through the air, sharp and unforgiving. My breath catches in my throat, and I snap my mouth shut, the words dying on my tongue.

Tears prick my eyes again, unbidden and relentless, and before I can stop myself, my hand tugs at his jacket, childlike and helpless. He glances down, his eyes flickering to my hand, then slowly back up to meet mine. A strange sensation sweeps over me, like the air has been sucked from my lungs as I stare at him, my mind unable to form words.

"Stop looking at me," he says, jerking his arm away, the movement abrupt and cold. "Get back on the floor." His attention returns to the dark road ahead, as if I'm nothing more than a nuisance, a flicker in his peripheral vision.

I retreat back to the floor, feeling utterly humiliated, the sting of his words cutting deeper than they should. I rest my head on my arm, closing my eyes as my thoughts whirl in chaotic spirals. Why didn't I just stay home? Why didn't I ignore Frank like I always do? Or smoke with my hot neighbor and his friends? My life would be normal right now-I'd be tucked safely in bed, drifting off to sleep, with nothing to worry about except getting up for school tomorrow. I should've just gone to bed.