Don’t Get Into Cars With Strangers
With only five days to go until Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller is available in paperback, I thought I’d give you a little taste of the first chapter:
Don’t get into cars with strangers.
So stupid to think I was strong enough to resist.
But I never dreamed it would happen to me.
Dashing through traffic in daylight. A tingling instant preceded my sneeze. Desperately scrabbling for a tissue before the explosion. Sneezing, blowing, blech…I wanted to wash my hands, but there was nowhere on the Terrace to do that. I looked up, wondering where I could.
My search met her stare, through the open window of her Mercedes. I knew my sneeze couldn’t inspire such fascination, so I looked behind me. Her laughter dragged my eyes from the ordinary street scene back to her. Apprehensive, I started to walk towards her, because my path lay past her.
She stepped out of her car, continuing to stare at me. I tried to look anywhere but at her. She had a nice car – a shiny red Mercedes with even shinier mag wheels, but not the newest model. I’d seen the newest ones in the doctors’ car park at the hospital. Yet there was something in the lines of this one…
“Now that’s a nice car,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.
She smiled and motioned for me to come closer. Her hair was a short, dark bob that shone in the sun, her lips a glistening bright red that matched the car.
“My friend wants to ask you something,” she said. Cracking open the car’s back door, she jerked her head in the direction of the car’s interior.
I leaned on the door frame and stuck my head inside with considerable curiosity. My eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the tinted gloom.
There were two guys in there – one in the passenger seat and another in the back. The one in the back was breathing heavily, like he’d just finished a long sprint…or he was making an obscene call. I could barely see his face, just his eyes. His eyes were on me, wide as saucers.
Pervert. I tried to back away, but the bitch behind me didn’t let me. She hit my diaphragm with the heel of her hand, forcing my breath out in a huff. Unable to breathe, the street stood still in my mind as I stared around, desperately hoping for someone to see – someone who’d help me. Did eyes meet mine? Did I imagine understanding? If it was, it came too late. The burning flare that was my need to breathe exploded and she shoved me into the car. I fell on flesh encased in fabric as I gasped for breath, a flailing fish in the pervert’s lap as I lay across the back seat. I dimly heard the doors and windows shut. The motor hummed as the car accelerated away – before I had enough air to scream.
If you’d like to hear it, too, there’s a reading of this chapter on YouTube: