With each step I feel lighter. Instead of continually recreating scenarios in my mind that might have ended differently, I think of what I'm going to eat tonight. Pad Thai sounds amazing, but I'm too tired to bother ordering ahead.
Not to mention the idea of interacting with anyone else today makes my head spin.
Seems like it'll be another night of staring at a frozen dinner making small circles in a microwave as Sammy twines around my legs, yowling at me for leaving him so long. No doubt berating me for not fluffing his dried food and skipping his tuna treat.
I'm almost to where I parked my car under the flickering lights. The beep of the doors unlocking chirps at the same moment I'm plunged into darkness.
My heart skips a beat and I stop abruptly, hoping to give my eyes time to adjust. There's a scuffing sound from behind me and I whirl. I don't make it far before I'm grabbed in a steely grip and pushed into a nearby car.
My ribs protest the abuse and my heart races.
I try to push away, but a solid wall of muscle and the paunch of an aging man blocks my way. Like almost everyone, he is much larger than me and smells like stale beer, sweat, and cigarettes.I struggle against his forceful grip, a scream cut off by a rough hand over my mouth.
It smells like acetone.
The fumes and jostling make my head throb and my stomach roil.
"It's not working. Ow! Stay still, bitch."
The man's voice sounds petulant under a veneer of hardness. As if I'm the one who started all of this.
The second man's voice is pure menace, and it sends ice racing along my skin. "Just give it time. She'll be down soon enough."
The whiner has me wrapped in a bruising grip, but my lower body and legs are free.
Adrenaline is making it hard to think clearly, but I figure out what they're talking about as I continue to writhe. The idiots are trying to use chloroform and expect it to work instantly.
The side effects rise from memory. Starting with organ damage and ending with hepatitis and I kick even more wildly. It hurts when I connect with the car in front of me, but it gives me an idea.
I keep kicking the side of it until the alarm blares.
"Just . . . stop. Fuck!"
"What the fuck, man? Get her under control."
They seem unconcerned with the alarm and simply yell over it. I'm getting dizzy and fight harder. Each panicked breath I take fills my lungs with noxious fumes.
"I'm trying to not break anything."
"The slimes don't care, asshole. Do your fucking job."
"Fine."
He grabs the arm I was using to rake gouges into his hand as he curses me and twists it painfully behind me. As a result, his hand is away from my mouth and I take in a ragged breath to scream. My lungs are burning and my mind is on fire.
I let out a screech, but it's cut off by the seizing of my abused lungs.
"You're fucking useless."
I scream again, and fingers dig into the back of my neck. The man with the menacing voice slams my head into the car in front of us, effectively cutting off my cry for help. The intense sensation overtakes me and I hang limp.
Though my mind is still urging me to get away, my body isn't following commands as they drag me across the rough concrete and throw me into the back of a van.
I groan at the added injuries, my back and hips on fire, but shakily try to rise.
In the muted light of the van, I'm able to see one of them for the first time. He's masked and his eyes promise incoming pain. He pins me down and stuffs a gag in my mouth as the van moves. It tastes like engine oil and my throat convulses trying to expel it.
Combined with the heady stench of his cheap cologne it makes me heave.
