have another goddamn nut standing in back of me with a gun pressed to my head. Un
“Good. Now do as I tell you and I won’t haveta spill ya pretty, lil brains out all over this concrete.”
The voice is deep, and unrecognizable. My mind is reeling. I have to get someone’s attention before this kook does God knows what to me. I have two options. I can scream at the top of my lungs and attempt to fight him, hoping someone hears me. Or I can scream and get my brains splattered all over the place. I swear this is not how I want to die, murdered—like my mother
I open my mouth to scream, but he whacks me in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, causing my knees to buckle. “Don’t even think it. I promise you. On e’erything I love. I
“Please,” I plead in a whisper, “my wallet’s in my bag. I only have a few hundred dollars on me, but we can go to an ATM and get more. Whatever you do, don’t hurt me.”
He yanks me by the arm. “Bitch, shut the fuck up and walk.” He tightens his grip on me, and starts dragging me toward a burgundy van. “You think I waited all goddamn night out in this muthafuckin’ parkin’ garage for ya money? Silly bitch! I don’t want ya goddamn money. I want somethin’ way better than that shit.”
“What, you want some pussy? You can fuck me right here, baby. You don’t have to rape me for it.”
“Bitch, shut ya smutty ass up. Ain’t nobody tryna rape ya trick ass. Now let’s go.” He yanks me by the arm. Tries to drag me with him.
For some reason I realize this is my last shot at getting away. If this nut takes me off in his vehicle, I may end up at the bottom of a river, or chopped up into tiny pieces, then tossed out somewhere. Win or lose, I have to at least try. If I have to die, then I need to go down with a fight. I start screaming at the top of my lungs and violently swinging. “HELP! SOMEBODY! PLEASE, HELP ME! THERE’S A—”
“Yo, hurry the fuck up and let’s get this bitch up outta here before someone comes out,” the nigga in back of me says, trying to restrain me. Then, in one swift motion, there’s a blade pressed up under my throat. “I’ma tell you one time to shut the fuck up. Now shut…the fuck…up. Or I’ma slice ya muthafuckin’ throat, ya heard?”
I shut my mouth, but I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate as images of my mother being found dead in the trunk of her car surface. I can’t help but think how both of my parents were tragically murdered, and now…that may become my fate as well. I continue to struggle to keep them from taking me, but they overpower me. And, then, the nigga in back of me gets me in a choke hold—blocking off my airway, causing everything to fade.
When I open my eyes, it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. I am gagged and bound, riding in the back of a vehicle. It’s dark in here. I blink my eyes and try to adjust to the darkness, but then I realize that I am blindfolded as well. My head is banging and feels like it’s about to explode. I am not sure how long I’ve been passed out, or how long we’ve been driving, but one thing I am certain of: I am in some deep shit!
I close my eyes, tight. Hoping someone has located my car. That Jasper, or Felecia—anyone, is calling around for me, worried. I can’t stop thinking about Jasper. About how much I love him. About how ready I am to marry him. And how I want to spend my life with him. I am not only frightened about not knowing where these nuts are taking me, or what’s going to happen to me once they get me there. I am scared shitless about these motherfuckers killing me, then tossing my body where no one will ever find me.
I’m nervous. And I can’t stop wondering if I am going to be raped, first, before my body is disposed of. If they’re going to torture me, or make it a swift kill. They have me riding around in the back of this van, going God knows where. I unsuccessfully struggle to break free, but give up, realizing it’s a moot point. The only thing I keep thinking is: I don’t want to die! Not tonight! And definitely not like this: kidnapped, gagged, blindfolded, and bound!
I frantically rack my brain, trying to figure out who is doing this to me, and why. I can’t imagine whom I could have pissed off? What I might have said or done that was so fucked-up that would warrant this. The only person who comes to mind is that nut who had been harassing me. I knew not hearing from him was too good to be true. I force myself to think of happy things. Imagine being a mother. Picture myself going down the aisle. My wedding is less than a month away and here I am shackled like a slave. Then that book I read,
The vehicle abruptly stops. I hear a set of voices. Then a door opens and slams shut. My heart races, knowing I’ve probably reached my destination; hopefully, it will not be my final destination.
The back doors swing open, and I feel two sets of hands grabbing me by the ankles, pulling me out. I attempt to fight and squirm, to no avail.
“This bitch is real feisty,” one voice says.
“Yeah, I’ma have a lotta fun tamin’ her hot ass,” another voice adds, laughing.
“Remember, she’s not to be hurt,” the first nigga says. His voice is not as gruff as the first nigga’s. He seems more rational.
“No doubt. I’ll just rough the bitch up a bit. Treat her like the slut she is.” He starts trying to manhandle me.
“C’mon, man…chill out wit’ all that. Let’s just get her inside,” the other guy says, stopping him. “She’s pregnant.”
The taller nigga huffs. “Whatever, nigga. Grab the bitch’s legs and let’s get this shit over with.”
THIRTY
I can’t wait to tear that throat up,” this ignorant motherfucker says to me as he removes the blindfold, then the tape from around my mouth. Although his face is hidden behind a black ski mask, I can tell he’s smirking. He’s not one of the two who kidnapped me from the mall. He’s taller and thicker. And more arrogant than the nigga who said he wanted to rough me up. His voice is also much deeper; more menacing than the others. He’s wearing faded blue jeans, a gray wife beater and a pair of green, white and gray AirMax 95s. “Yeah, I hear you got niggas beggin’ ya ass for some of that neck, but ya stuck-up ass be on some extra shit, tryna play muhfuckas. Well, guess what, bitch? A nigga like me doesn’t take ’no’ for an answer. I take what the fuck I want. Now I’ma treat you like the nasty, lil’ freaky, dick-teasing, cumslut you are. You wanna live, bitch?”
I nod my head, praying I’m not killed.
“Then you had better suck my dick and swallow my nut for ya life…and you better not choke, vomit, or fuck it up. You understand?” I nod again, watching him massage his crotch area. A lump forms in his jeans. I shift my gaze from his growing dick to the butt of his gun tucked down in his waistband. A silent reminder of what will happen if I don’t do exactly what I’m told. “Answer me, bitch, when I fuckin’ speak to you. Do you fuckin’ understand?”
I nod. “Yes,” I meekly respond.
“Good,” he says, pulling his gun out from his waist, then holding it in his left hand. He uses his other hand to unbuckle his belt, then unzip his jeans. He lets them fall down around his knees. He’s not wearing any underwear. His balls are huge and hairy. His semi-erection is thickening with each stroke of his hand. He waves his dick in my face.
