“Roshelle,” Todd cries as he grabs my arm to try and control me. “Calm down.” He pulls me away from Melissa, clearly scared that I am going to hit her again.
“I will not fucking calm down.” I push out as the tears fall. I turn to him, and a myriad of emotions fill me, but it is his betrayal that steals my voice. I have so many things I want to say, so many things that have escaped my brain. My eyes search his and he tries to grab my hand.
“Don’t touch me!” I yell as I whip my hand away from him. “Never again.”
I turn to Melissa. “Get your things and get out of my house.” I sneer.
“Roshelle,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head in disbelief. Suddenly the walls start closing in, and I know I have got to get out of here.
I have got to get away from this hurt.
I see an exit sign and make a beeline for it without looking back. I push out into the cold night air, the door slamming behind me.
“Shut the fuck up before I blow your fucking head off!” a man’s voice yells.
“You don’t have the fucking guts,” someone else sneers in
reply.
Huh?
I try to focus, despite my tears, and I angrily swipe them from my eyes. It’s dark and there are people out here. I try to focus on the shadows in front of me, then I turn back and try to open the door I just came out of. It’s locked and there is no handle on this side. It’s clearly a fire door.
What? Where am I?
The tears are streaming down my face.
A gunshot rings out and a man drops in front of me clutching his stomach. My eyes widen in horror as I grasp the situation I have just unknowingly stumbled upon.
What?
Suddenly, I’m surrounded by five men on all sides. I’ve interrupted some kind of deal.
Oh no.
“Who the fuck is she?” one man calls out.
I shake my head in a panic. “I didn’t see anything, I swear.” I push through the group of men and one of them grabs me by the arm. “I need me some clean ass tonight.”
I try to rip my arm from his clutches, but he hits me hard across the face with his gun, the pain ringing through my head like a lightning bolt before I fall to the ground.
“Bring her with us,” someone yells.
“No, we don’t need that baggage. Leave her, she said she didn’t see anything.”
They continue arguing.
“Yeah, well, my cock needs new pussy. “Bring her.” The
shooter growls.
I feel my body being lifted and then thrown into the tight space of a car trunk. “No,” I whisper. “No.” My handbag falls to the ground and I see someone pick it up and throw it in the car.
The trunk lid slams with a thud.
I taste blood in my mouth as I lie in a semi-conscious state in the dark.
The pain from my head throbs. What has just happened?
I put my hands up in the darkness and feel the cold metal that encases me.
The reality of the situation rings true as the car starts to drive, and I hear them talking to each other in the backseats behind me. Everything is foggy and my head, it hurts so much. I feel something hot run through my hair. What is it? I put my hand up and feel a deep gash in my head, the dripping blood hot and sticky. What the fuck? Oh no. They will kill me.
With renewed purpose and splayed hands, I start to hit the roof in a panic.
They just killed someone. I need some new pussy.
His words run through my head. Oh my God, they are going to rape me before they kill me, all five of them.
I start to run my hands frantically over the metal that encases me. How do you get out of a car trunk? Is there a latch? “Help!” I scream. “Help me,” I call out as I slam my open
hands on the roof. The car slows down. Shit! My eyes widen.
Is this it? I pant as I listen to their movements, and I hear the whirl of the traffic lights walk indicator. Now! I need to scream now. We are static, stuck in traffic.
I start to bang on the roof with force. “Help me!” I scream. I lift my legs and try to push the lid open, but fuck, it’s so cramped in here. I bang frantically on the ceiling, and I feel around underneath me, grabbing the corner of the carpet. Tools. There will be tools under here. I half roll over and tear back the carpet and grab a metal toolbox. “Help me. I’m in the trunk. I’m being kidnapped. Heeeeeeelp!” I scream.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll come back there and shut you up,”
a male voice growls from inside the car.
My eyes widen. Oh, he sounds scary. I really begin to freak out. I have to get out of here. Now.
I struggle to open the toolbox in front of me in the dark, but eventually it flies open in a rush and a tire iron flings back, hitting me straight in the nose.
“Ah, fuck!” I scream.
Ouch, that fucking hurt. The impact brings tears to my eyes, and I clutch my face. Oh, crap, I think I broke my own nose. I grab the tire iron and hit it on the roof with all of my strength. The impact makes it ricochet back and hits me straight in the eyebrow.
“Ahh!” I scream again. I feel a hot trickle run down the side of my face. If they don’t kill me, I am doing a good job of it myself here.
I keep banging the tire iron on the roof. This has got to be
gaining some kind of attention. “Help me,” I yell. “Someone… call the police. Help.”
The car speeds up and I am flung to the back of the trunk. The lights change, the car flies around the corner, and I go flying, sending the tools scattering throughout the trunk so they hit me. The driver turns a right like a maniac, and I slide and hit my head against the side.
“Fucking assholes,” I scream, and I hear them all laugh inside the car. Then the vehicle flies around a left corner and I go sliding again. I can hear the tires screeching as the car races down the street.
I’m going to die. Oh God, I’m going to die. I try to grip onto the metal roof to stop myself from hitting the edge, but I can’t, and as the car flies around the corner I crumple into the hard metal end of the trunk. The tools are flying around and hitting me. Shit. I feel around frantically for the tire iron again. I may need it, but I can’t find it, and my hand feels around the carpeted floor.
Where are you? Where are you?
I bend and feel along the other end of the trunk and finally feel the cold hard metal. My heart is racing as the car races out of control. I need a plan, but what is the damn plan?
Think.
I clutch the tire iron in my hand with white-knuckle force as I try to stop myself from flying around. Whoever opens the trunk is getting knocked out with this fucker. My thoughts cross to Oprah and her sound advice to never go to the second location. I don’t remember much from Oprah, but I do know that she said never go to the second location if being kidnapped—fight like hell to escape because they are going to kill you as soon as you get there.
Oh God, this is great.
I’m already in the fucking car on the way to the second location. I begin to get mad, like, furious mad. How dare they? I’ve had a really fucking bad night and I’m not in the mood for this shit. After about twenty minutes and sixty attack plans, the car slows down and goes over speed bumps.
Where are we?
Adrenaline starts to pump through my blood.
Speed bumps are in parking lots… So that must mean we