End Game (Harry Styles) (#watty's2018)

Chapter 9

Rosalyn

My heels click against the floor as I reach the parking lot, walking towards my car, I call out a goodbye to Ernie but frown not seeing him around. Most of the cars were gone and vaguely I spot Mr. Styles' Audi a few feet away. Moving around my car, I slip the key into the door to unlock it, before turning the key and hearing the lock turn. Taking a step back, I open the door and toss my bag onto the passenger seat. A gasp escapes my lips when I feel a hand rest on my arm, before gripping me to whirl my body around. I barely had time to register the movement before a strong hand slaps me across the face, causing me to stumble back.

"Ah!" I yelp as a hand comes to the back of my head, gripping my hair as best as my bun allowed, slamming my forehead against the side of the car before shoving me to the ground.

I groan and wince, rolling to my side as my hands move up to the sides of my head, feeling a shot of pain radiate from the harsh hit.

"Ah!" I cry out feeling a sharp kick to my stomach, forcing the air out of me. Glancing up, I open my pained shut eyes and notice two large men, looming over me with black ski masks over their faces.

Where's Ernie?

"Ah! No-Ah!" I yell between two more kicks, instinctively curling up into a ball, placing my hand over my belly.

"Please, stop." I add, begging but I cry out once more as they both continued their violent assault. A kick right after the other; a kick to my stomach, to my ribs, and even my arms as I attempt to cover the little angel inside me. With each blow it felt like I could feel my baby curl in pain too.

"Okay man, that's enough." A voice speaks as I receive one more kick and to my relief it stops.

"Did you check her purse?"

"Yes,but nothing was there." The first voice speaks before letting my bag drop to the ground, hearing a few things spilling out.

What are they looking for?

"Please, I don't have any cash on me but-Ah!" I loudly cry out, sobbing once more, feeling another kick to my stomach.

Please stop. Please.

"We don't want your damn money!" One of the two men growl and I cry, earning another kick but slightly lower at my hip.

"N-no, please. Ah! P-please, stop." I sob, my eyes screwed shut as the same guy that yelled at me, kicks me again and again just like he was before; with purpose and anger.

"Man, lets go, that's enough!" The first voice yells out as I cry. "Come on man, lets go."

"Fine, our initial job is done." The unknown guy agrees taking a step away from me and I close my eyes in relief, letting out puffs of tired air past my lips. Tentatively, I listen as they walk away.

When I open my eyes I am alone, the ground is cold and my eyes feel heavy. I need to call for help. Ignoring the ache in my head, I look around for my purse in search of my phone. I spot the familiar black item a few feet away but it's out of reach.

How am I going to let people know I'm here?

I roll onto my back and let out a breath  past my lips, momentarily looking up at the ceiling. I turn my head and my eyes land on the interior of my car.

The horn. I can use the horn.

"Ah." I half hiss half groan as I begin to lift myself off the ground to sit up.

Taking a moment, I mentally prepare myself and use my hands and feet, as best as my aching body allowed to scoot myself closer to the car. Once I am sitting right by the car, I shift to my knees and let out a small cry of pain as I place my arm on the driver's seat to haul myself up.