CONTEXTS: you are a landscape photographer you have a website where you upload the pictures as well as social media's. you love anything to do with Benedict Cumberbatch including his work and his looks but who doesn't INSTAGRAM: @Lauren's_landscapes
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Your blood ran cold in your veins as the car started to sputter, the lights inside the car flickering.
"What the hell? No, no, no, please!" You willed the car.
The machine had other ideas, forcing you to pull over on the side of the road just as the car died. You tried to stay calm as the night took over, the only light you had from the full moon. Hastily digging into your purse, you found your pepper spray, tucking it into your back pocket as you got out. You glanced from one end of the road to the other. Not a soul. No houses, no gas stations. No nothing.
It took everything you had not to burst into tears and hyperventilate at being on a back road at night with a dead car. You walked to your trunk to get out your emergency road kit, knowing that breaking down wouldn't help anything, instead citing your positives. At least you had light and you weren't broken down on a road with thick forests on either side. Lighting the flares and placing them around the car, you got out the flashlight and lifted the hood. A waft of foul-smelling smoke erupted into your face, coughing and waving your hand in front of you face.
"Of all nights for my phone to die..." You cursed the piece of technology.
Leaning heavily against the car, you moved the flashlight all over the area, trying to recall the little bit about cars your father had taught you. From a first glance, you were guessing it was the radiator.
The quiet of the road was unnerving. It was too quiet and your imagination was starting to get the best of you. Walking quickly, not bothering to drop the hood, you got back into your car to find salvation in a safe space. Sliding the driver's seat back and stretching your legs out, you considered your options. Did you wait for someone to drive up and flag them down or start to walk to get help? Taking a look at your surroundings, you quickly dismissed the idea of walking. Hell no were you walking right now. If anything, if no one happened by by daylight, you'd walk then.
To amuse yourself as time passed, you found a bouncy ball buried in your purse and bounced it off the dash to catch it before throwing it back. When a pair of headlights graced the top of the hill, you nearly dismissed it, staring into your rearview mirror to check to see it was in fact a car and not a mirage.
"Oh, oh my God!" You exclaimed as you sat up quickly, throwing open the car door and waving your arms wildly about your head. You were at war with yourself, going back and forth between, 'They'll stop' and 'No, they won't.' You heart nearly leapt into your throat when you saw the car was slowing down and pulling onto the shoulder behind you. You lost your resolve, crying with happiness as someone got out of the car.
"Do you need some help?" The deep baritone accented voice rang out, the sounds of Sigur Rós wafting from the vehicle.
You didn't see the person the voice belonged to, the headlights of the car drowning out any defining features but in the back of your mind you thought to yourself it sounded extremely familiar.
"Yes! Oh my God, thank you so much for stopping! My cell phone died so I couldn't call anyone and I didn't know how-holy shit."
The owner of the voice had walked up the side of the car and passed the headlights to reveal his face. A scoffing laugh fell out of your mouth before you could catch it.
