Theres no going back

"Did you like the movie,honey?" my mom asked,gleaming. "Yes! it was wonderful! And it had the BEST ending!" I mimic her gleeful smile. She is so radiant, with a bright smile,gleaming light blue eyes,and pink rosy cheeks. I hope I grow up to be like her. She even has a decent occupation, which is difficult to obtain here in New York. I glance at her once again and immediately cover my ears. It was a habit. When she was striving to receive a taxi's attention, she billowed the loudest screeching whistle I've ever heard. Another good thing about her. Just to add on, she has perfectly silky brown hair that courses to almost her waist, a perfect small,slight body, all the way to her dainty feet. Snapping me out of my thoughts, a small, orange sunset colored taxi squeals to a halt at the curb. I can't place what it is , all the right items are in the right locations, everything looks inconspicuous, yet I have a sickening feeling. Then it hits me. The lettering. I can tell it is reinstated unprofessionally. But why? I glance at the driver, who is glaring at the road as if it murdered his dearest family member, not making eye contact with us at all. Momma has to notice something was questionable. Its obvious. Yet she doesn't acknowledge it. "Come on, Leah, let's go." She softy yet firmly utters. "But, mommy, I don't know, I don't feel so good."

"Well then you should feel better when we arrive at the house. Come on, dear." "But mom, I-"

"You are 8 years old! Act like it!" She whispers menacingly. Then she switches to the soft tone again.

"When we get home I'll make breakfast for dinner." She urged. "Okay" I mumbled, exasperated. I knew I have no choice. I would just have to get over it. I sluggishly drag myself into the cab, closing the door as I get in. "To 305 Emerald Circle, please. " The man nods his head, barely murmuring an "alrighty." He is broad and burly, with a gruff stubble of a beard and hollow eyes. Those eyes. Every few seconds they dart to the mirror where me and my moms faces are reflected, and I know he is pondering something. He can't be looking at me, because even if I do look like my mom, I am still unattractive, not even comparable to her. It takes him ages to press the gas and finally head towards our house and off the curb. We ascend and descend small hills, yet the farther we drive, the more that lingering sense of fear grows. I don't see what it could be. Did I leave something? I shuffle through the few belongings we took with us. No, everything is accounted for. I don't know what I'm so worried about. What could it be? I am sharply torn out of my intense thinking when my mom inquires politely, "Sir, you just missed our turn. It's right back down the road." Silence. "Sir." Her voice is tensing, trying to collect his attention. "Sir." She is yelling now. "Turn this cab around right this minute!" She starts to bang on the thin plexiglass shield between us and him. He doesn't even breathe in our direction. "Stop this cab right freaking now, or I promise to man that I will FRICK you up!" Still no acknowledgement. Where is he taking us? In my terror, I am frozen, unable to move, yet my heart is beating out of my chest at a mile a minute. Mom is constantly trying to open the doors, but they are locked tight. We aren't getting out.