May 4, 2010
"Alright, see you guys later!" Violet called as she walked down the porch’s stairs toward her two-year old truck. She smiled to herself as she recalled a recent joke from earlier that evening that her best friend had told during there dinner. Violet let out a sigh, relieved that she took time off her job to actually ‘have fun,’ as her friend put it. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder as she placed the keys into the vehicle’s lock. Just as her hand began to twist, something warm and calloused clasped over her mouth.
"Don’t say a word, doooooll," a harsh voice hissed. Violet nodded slowly as her eyes widened in fright. "Get in the truck," he said as he towed her to the passenger side and tossed her into the leather seat. He climbed into the driver’s side shortly after, something shinny and dark in his hand.
"Not a word," He glared at her as he cocked his handheld gun and pointed it toward her head. "Got it?" Violet nodded as her shaky hands searched for something to take a hold of. Just as they latched onto the seatbelt when her poor truck burst forward in a bout of speed. She had barely gotten herself buckled in before the man was speaking to her again.
"Yer gonna be a good girlie, aren’t ya?" the man coaxed.
Nothing but plains stretched out in front of them. Violet cursed herself for wanting to live in Oklahoma.
"Nod yes or no," the man demanded. Violet slowly nodded as she tried to hold in her sobs. Tears gathered as silent puddles in her lap, as they slipped from their hold on her skin.
“No trouble out o’ ya at all, ya hear?" he growled. His gun’s barrel was frighteningly close to her head. Violet nodded again as her gaze blurred.
I'm going to die. She thought as she glanced toward the man.
What was going to happen to me? Rape? Torture? Murder?
The man clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His face seemed to become more and more of an angry scowl as he seemed to brew on some foreign thought.
Violet held her hands together in her lap attempting to calm her hysteria. I'll be fine, she repeated to herself. I’ll escape. I’ll survive.
The tears were slowing. She looked at the man more closely. He was wearing a black bandana over the lower half of his face and the dark night made it hard to too see anything other than his wide frame. Something glinted in the shadows. Something in his ear. A gage?
The man tensed as he felt Violet’s gaze on him. He held the gun to her head again.
“Don’t look at me,” he grumbled, “There’s a blindfold in my jacket pocket. Get it. If ya look at me, yer dead.”
Violet nodded. She kept her head down as she reached into his sweaty pocket and withdrew a long piece of cloth.
“Put it on,” he growled, sparing her only the smallest of glances. She complied. The blindfold was heavy with what could only be compared to grease. Its waxy film covered her eyes as she knotted the ends together. The smell of oil drifted toward her nose. What ever was on that cloth, she didn’t want to fathom.
With every bump and jolt, Violet’s fear sharpened. What was happening? Why am I here? What does he want with me?
She was just a college student at the crisp age of 20. She was well-liked, and popular. Her chocolate brunette hair and vibrant ocean eyes were the envy of every girl. Why was this happening to her?
The truck seemed to stop moving. With the click of the keys and the roar of the engine dying, Violet was sure. They had stopped. Maybe she could escape. Whatever this guy had planned, she was not going to be any part in it.
“Get out,” his voice grumbled before his presence left the truck. Violet pulled the handle on her door and stumbled out, disoriented from the pitch black pleasure of the blind.
“New meat, boss?” a tenor voice chimed nearby.
“Nah. I just thought she’d like the ride…,” the man from earlier spoke.
Violet grasped the side of her truck. She needed something stable to hold onto. What were they going to do?
“I’ll do ‘er,” a low, grumbling voice to her left announced.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The sound of footsteps on gravel came closer.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Run. She had to run. Escape.
Thud. Thump. Clack.
Guns on their side. Guns kill. Death creeping closer.
“Don’t move dolly,” grunted a husky voice.
Violet propelled herself off the truck. She ran. The gravel under her feet slipped. The heels she wore fell off.
Hard gravel biting heels. Arms blindly out-stretched.
“I said don’t move!” a distant voice growled loudly.
The cocking of a barrel.
Run. Faster. Run. Don’t stop.
don’t stop
Pain burst through Violet’s shoulder. Something hot was dripping down her shirt.
Keep. Going.

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bookworm266 said...
Jun. 4, 2010 at 5:22 pm
omg! that was amazing! it just really want to know wat happened to her in the head.......
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