|| Inevitable ||

II

You are coming with me.

If there is any sentence that has ever struck fear in my heart it is that one. This fear is not rooted in the words, but rather the conviction and clarity in which he spoke them. I didn't even have a choice, and he made damn sure I knew that.

I knew wholeheartedly that in the days, months, years, to come, this man would be the source of my eternal suffering.

Words speak so much louder in the right tone, and his tone told me all I had to know. Foreboding. A foresight. Well, at least that's what came to mind while he shoved me down the back stairs, with the barrel of a gun digging into my side. I would have said something snarky to him but halfway down the stairs he threatened to 'blow a giant chunk out of my ear if I didn't keep my trap shut'. His words, not mine.

I'm not really helping this situation by being funny, but I can't help it.

My mind is racing with a million horrible things. I'm being kidnapped, and then what? Drugged? Tortured? Killed? Sold into sex trafficking? Sent into the hunger games? The possibilities are endless. Without some lightheartedness I would be bawling my eyes out, but I'm not weak. I'm not going to cry and falter into the knife-wielding embrace of a kidnapper.

My hands are whiter than a sheet as I fumble with the door handle to the back parking lot. A subtle pressure at my ribs reminds me to hurry up. The door eventually opens and we step out, him surveying the carpark for witnesses and me, just you know, freaking the fuck out.

The wintry air bites at my skin and I shake violently, a little from the cold, but mostly out of intense fear. The stranger is frozen behind me, still looking around slowly. I never noticed how big this carpark is, it's massive. Seeing my opportunity, I crane my head forward and open my mouth to let out a cry for help. But I'm cut short.

A hand clasps over my mouth and I let out a muffled scream.

"Shh, I just want to talk," he says at my ear. If you want to talk then remove your gloved hand from my mouth, so I can cuss you out!

Smooth plastic rests against the side of my face as he speaks lowly, "I have only two rules. One, you don't scream. Two, you don't run. Follow those rules for now and I can update them when we get there."

Get where?

"If you fail to follow those rules, I won't hesitate to throw you out of a moving vehicle and, or slit your throat." He spares a moment for his words to really sink in. "Do you understand?"

I answer with a muffled yes.

He's actually serious, this isn't a joke. Fuck.

He removes his hand from my mouth, peeling the glove off his hand, only to grip my forearm forcefully. His nails cut into my skin and I wince in pain. "Try anything." He applies more pressure, leaving red indents in my pale skin, "You will regret it."

I gulp down the sarcastic comment rising in my chest and hold completely still. He emanates a coldness that can't be described in words, the aura of one who is adapted to this, who has it down to a fine art - a killer.

I'm pushed forward once more, staggering by the force of his chest against my back. I hate this, my mind seethes. I hate being so helpless. So vulnerable at the hands of a stranger.

It's pitch black outside, no street light in sight. He stops briefly and places the glove over his hand again, and then we walk across the empty lot. His breathing is even more stable than before, almost relaxed. I cannot explain how much that disturbs me.