06-22-2013, 02:24 PM
I'm going to die.
That thought plays through my head like a broken record as the driver orders me to walk toward the car again. My brain knows that the only way I'm going to get out of this mess is to follow, but my legs aren't buying it. I stay in the same position I was when he pulled the gun, letting him walk toward me.
"I said, go to the car! Are you deaf?"
Finally, my legs decide to fucking move. The snapping of twigs behind me makes it pretty apparent how closely behind me he's following, does he think I'm going to run off again? I mean I probably would, but does he know that?
We make it out of the forest into the weird bit of clearing where the car was that brought me here. The dim light of the moon guides toward the rusted yellow exterior of this mobile prison. What do these people want with me? That question runs through my head on loop as the man brings his gun up, and bashes me in the head.
Dropping down to my knees, everything around me is dulled. No matter how hard I try to squint my eyes to catch a glimpse of the slightest thing, it's blurred. My hand reaches to where the gun struck me, already wet with blood. I swear, if I get out of this, that guy is so dead.
Listen to me talk, how am I going to kill someone? I just to need to stay...
"Get back in the car."
You know what? I'll push being calm back a few moments.
"I would've gotten into the car faster if you didn't bash my skull in with your damn gun!"
I can't see him, so I don't know what he's thinking as forces open the door to the backseat. Grabbing me by my hair, he tosses me back where I started. Now to think of a way out of this predicament. The man walks toward the driver side door and opens it. Leaning back into the seat, he puts the keys into the ignition and starts the car up.
"All I wanted to do is sell you to them and get on with my life. Now, they ain't taking you. So you know what I'm gonna do?"
Shutting the fuck up would be nice, but I doubt he will any time soon. I lean my head back, making sure to get a nice bit of blood onto the seat.
"I'm gonna kill you now."
Oh no, this cannot be happening! I don't think I've ever been so annoyed to be right in my entire life! Wait a minute, if he was going to kill me, wouldn't he have done it already?
There's something else going on here, I think to myself as the car drives on the path out of the park/forest/wherever the fuck we were. He's definitely up to something. Why would he take me somewhere else, when we were already secluded?
My eyelids become heavy, a mixture of that and the annoying, stinging pain I feel in my head force me shut my eyes.
They stay shut until once more the man's hand pulling me out of the car shakes me awake. I look around, trying to analyze my surroundings. A large, dirt field. About 10 feet from where I awkwardly stand is a 6 foot deep hole. The driver looks at me with a sick smile.
Now, I don't mean he looks like he's mentally ill. He looks like he's going to be sick if he does what he feels is necessary. Perfect, I already have him right where I want him. All I need for him to do now is start conversation, anything he says will work.
"Times up. End of the road, Ms. Diaz."
So, he did his research on me, huh? I have to say I'm thoroughly confused of why he'd want to learn my name, since he's already uneasy about killing me. Adding a name to the face should make it harder.
Maybe that's why it's hard in the first place...
"You know you don't have to do this."
He looks at me, puzzled. I didn't beg for my life, I didn't tell him to let me go. All I did was point out the obvious.
Obviously, that wasn't what he had in mind.
"Oh, but I do. You'll squeal on me!"
Is this going to seriously be his justification? Did I really get kidnapped by this guy? Sure, he looks kinda like a badass, but he seems like such a fucking pushover! Guess I should put my theory to the test.
"You don't know that I'll say anything."
"I don't know you won't."
...Was that it?
"What would I tell them? I was kidnapped, and then he let me go? I don't even know who the fuck you are!"
He contemplates my response for a moment. A moment is all I really need. As he looks away, the thought still on his mind, I reach out and grab the shovel he was digging with and wait. Sure enough he turns around, and...
CRACK!
The whole damn shovel vibrates off the hit and jumps out of my hand. He falls backward as blood squirts forward, barely avoiding my clothes. I grab hold of his shirt and drag his unconscious body into the hole. I mean, he did go through all of the trouble of digging it, why not put it to use?
Looking back at the car, I see that the keys are still in the ignition. This plan keeps getting better and better. The body's on the edge of the hole in the ground, I give it a kick and it falls in. It doesn't land with a thud, more a sickening bone popping sound. Dirt explodes upwards, and when it clears I look down into the grave.
He landed right on his head.
Is he dead?
Do I care if he is?
That thought plays through my head like a broken record as the driver orders me to walk toward the car again. My brain knows that the only way I'm going to get out of this mess is to follow, but my legs aren't buying it. I stay in the same position I was when he pulled the gun, letting him walk toward me.
"I said, go to the car! Are you deaf?"
Finally, my legs decide to fucking move. The snapping of twigs behind me makes it pretty apparent how closely behind me he's following, does he think I'm going to run off again? I mean I probably would, but does he know that?
We make it out of the forest into the weird bit of clearing where the car was that brought me here. The dim light of the moon guides toward the rusted yellow exterior of this mobile prison. What do these people want with me? That question runs through my head on loop as the man brings his gun up, and bashes me in the head.
Dropping down to my knees, everything around me is dulled. No matter how hard I try to squint my eyes to catch a glimpse of the slightest thing, it's blurred. My hand reaches to where the gun struck me, already wet with blood. I swear, if I get out of this, that guy is so dead.
Listen to me talk, how am I going to kill someone? I just to need to stay...
"Get back in the car."
You know what? I'll push being calm back a few moments.
"I would've gotten into the car faster if you didn't bash my skull in with your damn gun!"
I can't see him, so I don't know what he's thinking as forces open the door to the backseat. Grabbing me by my hair, he tosses me back where I started. Now to think of a way out of this predicament. The man walks toward the driver side door and opens it. Leaning back into the seat, he puts the keys into the ignition and starts the car up.
"All I wanted to do is sell you to them and get on with my life. Now, they ain't taking you. So you know what I'm gonna do?"
Shutting the fuck up would be nice, but I doubt he will any time soon. I lean my head back, making sure to get a nice bit of blood onto the seat.
"I'm gonna kill you now."
Oh no, this cannot be happening! I don't think I've ever been so annoyed to be right in my entire life! Wait a minute, if he was going to kill me, wouldn't he have done it already?
There's something else going on here, I think to myself as the car drives on the path out of the park/forest/wherever the fuck we were. He's definitely up to something. Why would he take me somewhere else, when we were already secluded?
My eyelids become heavy, a mixture of that and the annoying, stinging pain I feel in my head force me shut my eyes.
They stay shut until once more the man's hand pulling me out of the car shakes me awake. I look around, trying to analyze my surroundings. A large, dirt field. About 10 feet from where I awkwardly stand is a 6 foot deep hole. The driver looks at me with a sick smile.
Now, I don't mean he looks like he's mentally ill. He looks like he's going to be sick if he does what he feels is necessary. Perfect, I already have him right where I want him. All I need for him to do now is start conversation, anything he says will work.
"Times up. End of the road, Ms. Diaz."
So, he did his research on me, huh? I have to say I'm thoroughly confused of why he'd want to learn my name, since he's already uneasy about killing me. Adding a name to the face should make it harder.
Maybe that's why it's hard in the first place...
"You know you don't have to do this."
He looks at me, puzzled. I didn't beg for my life, I didn't tell him to let me go. All I did was point out the obvious.
Obviously, that wasn't what he had in mind.
"Oh, but I do. You'll squeal on me!"
Is this going to seriously be his justification? Did I really get kidnapped by this guy? Sure, he looks kinda like a badass, but he seems like such a fucking pushover! Guess I should put my theory to the test.
"You don't know that I'll say anything."
"I don't know you won't."
...Was that it?
"What would I tell them? I was kidnapped, and then he let me go? I don't even know who the fuck you are!"
He contemplates my response for a moment. A moment is all I really need. As he looks away, the thought still on his mind, I reach out and grab the shovel he was digging with and wait. Sure enough he turns around, and...
CRACK!
The whole damn shovel vibrates off the hit and jumps out of my hand. He falls backward as blood squirts forward, barely avoiding my clothes. I grab hold of his shirt and drag his unconscious body into the hole. I mean, he did go through all of the trouble of digging it, why not put it to use?
Looking back at the car, I see that the keys are still in the ignition. This plan keeps getting better and better. The body's on the edge of the hole in the ground, I give it a kick and it falls in. It doesn't land with a thud, more a sickening bone popping sound. Dirt explodes upwards, and when it clears I look down into the grave.
He landed right on his head.
Is he dead?
Do I care if he is?