I lay on the backseat of the taxi, my hands and feet tightly bound, my mouth taped shut, and my eyes wide open in terror. The driver's hoarse, cold voice cut through the silence.
"Struggling is useless, girl. No one can hear you."
His words felt like a death sentence, trapping me in a prison of fear. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. I tried to move, but the ropes were too tight. Every attempt to free myself only caused more pain.
The car sped along a bumpy road, and the rough terrain tossed me around the backseat. Each jolt was sharp and disorienting, amplifying my panic. The driver turned onto a deserted road, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The headlights stretched out into the void, showing no signs of life.
Helpless, I lay there, tears welling in my eyes. People say that in moments of near death, your mind becomes crystal clear. All I could think of was my little boy. If something happened to me, what would become of him? Who would take care of him? Who would protect him? The thought tore at my heart.
A violent jolt threw me from the seat, and I hit the cold, hard floor of the car. The metal pressed against my body as I shivered from the fear coursing through me. I felt utterly powerless, tears streaming down my face as I prayed for a miracle.
The driver seemed oblivious to my fall. He drove on, the blaring music from the radio drowning out everything else. The road grew rougher, and every bump felt like torture. I fought to stay calm, though fear and pain threatened to consume me.
From where I lay, I scanned the car, desperate to find something, anything, that could help me. My eyes caught a faint glint under the seata pen. It seemed insignificant, but in my dire situation, it felt like a lifeline.
Slowly and carefully, I maneuvered my fingers toward the pen, trying not to alert the driver. After a few tense moments, I grasped it in my hand. A flicker of hope surged within me.
I began scraping at the ropes binding my wrists, each stroke slow and painful. The ropes began to loosen, but the pen also cut into my skin. I bit down hard, forcing myself to stay silent.
The driver muttered to himself, unaware of my struggle. I persisted, every second filled with growing tension.
After what felt like an eternity, the rope around my wrists finally gave way. Relief flooded through me, but I knew I couldn't stop there. My legs were still bound. I worked quickly to free my feet, moving carefully to avoid making noise.
Once I was free, I peeled the tape from my mouth, savoring the relief of being able to breathe fully again. But I wasn't safe yet. I had to get out of the car before the driver noticed. The doors were locked, but I spotted a small metal bar under the seat.
I grabbed the bar and began prying at the door, pausing every few moments to check if the driver had noticed. He remained focused on the road. After some effort, the door began to budge.
Just as I was about to make my move, the car came to a sudden stop. Before I could react, a sharp tug on my hair pulled me backward. The driver's face appeared beside me, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"You're clever," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.
I froze, realizing with horror that he had been watching me through the rearview mirror the entire time.
"But did you really think you could escape?" he taunted, his tone filled with cruel amusement.
Pain surged through me as he yanked my hair harder, pulling me upright. My scalp burned, and my heart raced, but I refused to give up. The door was still unlockedthere was a chance.
The driver smirked, tightening his grip. "You thought you were smarter than me, huh? Don't even think about it."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a fire extinguisher under the seat. This was my only chance. Summoning all my strength, I kicked the driver hard in the side, causing him to lose balance. In an instant, I grabbed the extinguisher and smashed it against his head.
He cried out in pain, loosening his grip on me. Without hesitation, I shoved the door open and hurled myself out of the car. The cold night air hit me as I tumbled to the ground, pain shooting through my body. But I didn't stop. I scrambled to my feet and ran, my heart pounding with both fear and adrenaline.
Behind me, I could hear the driver groaning in pain, but I didn't look back. I had one goal: escape. I had to survive. For my son.
The night swallowed me as I sprinted down the road, my feet pounding the pavement. I didn't know where I was or where I was going. All I knew was that I had to keep running.
I ran desperately, each step heavier and more painful than the last, but I couldn't afford to stop. The darkness closed in around me, and the road ahead seemed endless. The wind whipped past my ears, mixing with my ragged breaths. I didn't dare to look back, terrified that even a moment's hesitation would allow him to catch up. I had to escape. I had to find safety.
Behind me, the driver limped along, gripping a large shovel. His shadow, cast by the headlights, stretched long and menacing on the road.
"You think you can get away?" he shouted, his voice raw and animalistic.