“Get in the front.” He orders from behind me, not leaving an inch for me to breathe, I suppose I should take it as a compliment that he thinks I can run with a flesh wound.

I take in the sleek vehicle one hundered and thirty two steps from my front door, no, I don’t know why I counted. A matte black sedan, perfect for his elusive behaviour. I can hardly see my reflection in the window, they might aswell be painted black, so much for making a signal to someone. Fuck.

He stays within inches of me, not moving from my side, I suppose he shouldn’t trust me. I will try again. I just have to be smart. In his company, and my limited options, I’m not sure how the hell im going to achieve that.

Wait. My phone must have some sort of tracking, right? If my mom called the police, they could track it. My gut churns at how much time would have to go by for her to do that, and how much time he would have with me.

How long is it before a person is considered missing? I did file that report though and that officer will be expected to check in with someone soon, surely?

What did he do with him though? If he tapped into my phone, he’d have no issues with the police radios. But they must be suspicious, they must come and look for me.

I get into the sleek vehicle, surprised when he switches the seats heaters on immediately. It doesn’t feel right to be warm, I want to be cold. Alert. Ready.

My attention is suddenly bought to the throbbing in my foot, god that doesn’t feel right, the plug must have gone through something, it shouldn’t hurt this bad. I squeeze my hands against the pain, biting my inner cheek until I draw blood.

The warmth under my seat hits my foot, bringing my attention to the area far more than I’d like it to, a whimper escapes me before I can control it.

His head whips to me, “1-10?”

I reel at his casual question given the diabolical situation.

“Nine.” I breathe though my nose, trying to think of anything but the pain. I’ve never felt a feeling like it, it’s one of those so intense it takes you everything not to just throw up.

His brows draw and his hand rests on the wheel, he’s debating what to do. I mean what can he do, he can’t take me to a hospital, he can’t risk that.

“I’ll get you something stronger soon. Until then I need you to calm your breathing, getting worked up will only heighten your perception of the pain.”

Breathing? Is he joking? Oh I’m sorry, I’ll just breathe better, that way I won’t feel the effects of a plug being embedded into my skin.

“In for four, through the stomach.” His voice is detached, like a surgeon handing me the scalpel to my own flesh.

“Hold it for three.”

I hold it, focusing my gaze on the street sign in front of us.

“Exhale for six. Slowly.”

I repeat this until I actually feel my heart start to calm down.

“Are you a doctor? How did you know to do that? You knew about my foot too.”

He looks over my face quickly, a dismissive glance at best , not bothering to respond. Maybe he is? Or just trained as one?

I don’t think an actual qualified doctor would spend his Tuesday nights on pave ways removing mens teeth though.

I continue breathing as he instructed and manage to distract myself from the pain. Instead focusing on the numbers I follow in sequence of my breaths.

He switches the engine on, the stark lights illuminating our dark surroundings.

We drive in silence and my heart begins to beat faster as the journey goes on. Fuck. Im running out of time. I have to do something. Anything, to get me out of this fucking car. I can’t let this happen. Because once I step out of here, my life is over.

I sneak a glance at his wheel and the side of his car door, this isn’t an old model he could lock our doors in a matter of seconds, it would probably take him less time to draw a gun.

I’m screwed. I watch his face, he looks calm, it’s strange, he looks detached. I hate it. It’s like he doesn’t care, like he might as well have been taking his elderly mother shopping, it means that little to him.

Strangely, he doesn’t drive fast like I’d expected him to, instead with a cool precision that I suppose fits him quite well.

We turn a corner and a few dimly lit gated houses come into view, large ones at that, no, mansions. God, money meant power. Money meant rich white men who wanted nothing more than to step on those beneath them, not caring who they hurt. We stop just before the last house on the row, fuck this must be it. I was counting on him stopping for fuel, maybe being able to signal to someone at a red light but it’s just my luck that each set of lights we came to were green.

He stops the engine and for the first time all night I’m certain I can sense something in him, a tension. His eyes lock onto me as he turns, he looks focused.

“Ava, I need you to know that your life depends on the next five minutes.” He says, and I almost reel from the steel in his voice, it isn’t cold this time though, it isn’t indifferent, it’s concern. And the fact that he, a man who all night has shown not an ounce of emotion, now is showing it, turns my stomach. If I thought he was bad, what or who the hell is in there, causing him to be this tense?

“What? What’s about to happen?” I can barely force the words from my throat, my fear lodges deep into my chest, rendering me unable to speak coherently.

“You should know before you go in there, you need to be prepared.” He intakes a deep breath before continuing.

“I work for an organisation. The things you saw me doing last night, that was a job.” His hand clenches around the wheel, tightening as he looks forward in deep concern.

“In short, they know that you know. You’re a loose end now, Ava. But I don’t kill civilians. Fuck.” He looks back to me, his face contorted.

“Knowing this information means you are already dead. They sent me to come and collect you. But like I said, I don’t kill civillians.”

What the actual fuck? When I said I want to my life to be a movie I did not mean a horror. My blood runs hotter and I look around, trying to focus on anything other than the dire life threatening information I’ve just been given.

“I don’t understand, if I know this information, if they know what I saw, these people.. this organisation, they’ll kill me on sight, won’t they?” My voice strains.

I put my hand on my chest, forcing myself to calm down, because with the way I was going it wouldn’t be them that would kill me.

“Im going to make a deal with them.”

No no no. I knew this was coming. This is it. This is what he meant, that call, every cryptic thing he said at my house. I might not be dying tonight, but my life will be stolen from me.

“What deal?” I say before thinking, I have to know.

His eyebrow rises a touch, taken aback at my forthcomingness, but this fear ran my blood hot, it had begun to turn into anger, the only thing fueling me.

“There’s a chance it doesn’t work, and in that scenario, well, we can discuss that later. You’re going to convince them, that you won’t say another word about this entire incident.”

What? Has he hit his head? In what world would that have any effect?

“How? How will that achieve anything? They know I called the police and saw what you did. As soon as they see me, they’ll kill me.”

He shakes his head, resistant to accept my protests,”Ava this isn’t something I’ve only just thought about. I know them, I know what I’m doing, Put your trust in me.”

I scoff, because that’s all I can do, can he hear himself?

He continues when I say nothing,

“You’re going to plead, Ava. You’re going to tell them how you have no interest in divulging our ‘activies‘, you only called the police because you thought I was a threat to you, you make it clear that you just want to be left alone. They’ll see you as less of a threat because you’re a woman, they won’t think you’re smart enough to do anything with any information you have.”

I have no words, I think the fear almost entirely leaves me.

“This woman managed just fine reporting every detail to the police, ones that would incriminate you immediately. Did you know I remembered the reg? No of course not, how’s a ditzy thing like me going to do that, when she’s so defenceless and scared.” I find my chest moving rapidly after I finish, he looks almost.. impressed?

“I don’t subscribe to their beliefs Ava, they’re bad men, but sexism is the lowest on the list of your worries.”

Still, the anger doesn’t burn any less, I suppose it’s helping, if I’m not fearful I can think clearly.

The throbbing in my foot seems to worsen, the heat from the car seeming to intensify it.

He follows my line of sight as I stare at my ankle, he pulls a small leather case from the glove compartment, his knuckles grazing my thighs. Rows of boxes sit there, that can’t be what he meant by something stronger? When he pulls one of those boxes out I see it says toradol? What the fuck? How did this guy have medical grade meds? I only knew the name from when my grandfather had his hip replacement, he was on drip with the stuff for days, I consider saying no but the pain in my foot heats my blood with a nausea that would have me passing out if I didn’t do something.

“Two of these and the pain will subside.”

He hands me the pills and a bottle of water, I have half a thought that he could have drugged the water, but I suppose he could have done that at any point and his speech earlier about not wanting to kill civilians rang true to me. He isn’t necessarily trustworthy but he seems to be the type to not bother lying, like he didn’t care for it, like it was a waste of his time.

I took the pills, their sizely shape taking a few more mouthfuls of water to get down properly. He watches me swallow them, following the action of the water flowing down my throat.

He looks at me a moment, an intense stare. He looks contemplative, like, ‘should I really do this?’

“I said you wouldn’t be harmed Ava, my word is my bond.”

I don’t know why he bothers telling me to be honest, it’s not as if I have a choice. My heart begins thumping against my ribcage, the motion rocking my body in a frantic rhythm.

I don’t have a choice, I just need to convince them, he knows them best, I need them to think I don’t care.