“I fucking hate you too. Now get in the damn car,” he says, flinging me away.
I settle in the car and buckle the seatbelt, mentally preparing myself for what’s coming.
The tires squeal as he speeds off.
“Slow down!”
“You want to fuck him?”
“What?”
“You heard me!”
“That question doesn’t deserve an answer.”
“You were flirting with him!”
“That was after you started acting like a damn idiot!”
He turns onto the highway, traveling close to a hundred miles per hour.
“You’re going to get us killed!”
“Maybe I should put us both out of our fucking misery.”
He jerks the steering wheel left, driving over the median strip.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.
He speeds straight towards oncoming traffic. Motorists honk their horns, swerving out of the way to avoid a car accident.
“You’re a lunatic!”
“You made me look like a fucking fool!”
“I’m sorry!” I’ll say anything to get him to stop this madness. I lose control of my bladder, peeing in my panties a little when we nearly have a head-on collision. I’ve never been so afraid in my life.
“Since you want to behave like a slut, I’ll treat you like one.”
I’ve seen Art livid plenty of times, but this is beyond that. The sense of danger within the small confines of the car is suffocating. I can almost taste the fear in my mouth. Should I be scared for my life?
Art crosses back over the median and takes the next exit. He jerks the wheel, turning onto a dark, deserted street where he parks and jumps out of the car. I think about making a run for it, but he’ll catch me in seconds. When he comes around to the passenger door, I hit the locks.
“Open this fucking door right now!”
I shake my head.
“It’ll be hell to pay if you don’t.”
I flip him the bird.
“Fine. You want to play, let’s go.”
He walks away, disappearing into the night. I frantically search the surrounding area for any sign of him, but I can’t see anything through the rain. I climb into the driver’s seat, relieved I only have to push a button to start the engine. I’ll face his wrath later for leaving him stranded, but right now I need to get away. Before I can put my plan in motion the passenger-side window is shattered. A very pissed off Art stands there, holding a brick. He reaches inside the car, twisting my hair in his hand. I scream bloody murder as he hauls me through the window. Jagged pieces of glass pierce my flesh. He laughs at my attempt to fight him off—the sound maniacal and frightening.
“It’s amusing you think you can escape me,” he sneers. “I’m stronger than you’ll ever be.”
Art savagely tears at my dress and panties until I’m left only in heels, completely exposed to the elements.
