The Ride - DRAFT

It is so cold and dark in here. I cannot see anything no matter how hard I try. Every image is simply a shadow of the darkness.

I question how I came to be in this position. I am not a victim by choice but I somehow know this is my destiny. I do not believe in the concept of fate but somehow I know I was made to someday be in this situation. The manufacturing of my being, my body, my soul, all of it led me here. All of it, every single last bit, seemed to coalesce into my path ending here... in the boot of a car being driven by a man who I know will be my undoing.

I cannot remember how long I have been in here. I do remember the man in the store, which is where I first saw him. We were at a rental hire for luxury cars. I remember hearing him talk to the sales person. He was talking about how he wanted to rent a fancy vehicle. Apparently he had a high school reunion to go to. The man, I cannot recall his name, started joking with the male salesman about how he wanted to use the car to impress a special lady while he was there. The salesman in turn joked about what could be done in the backseat without damaging the interior.

The man rented the vehicle, made some further jokes and then left. After that I remember being in the boot, his hands on me while he also packed belongings for his trip, the first time I saw his actual face. He was smiling as he ran his hands over me and placed bags around me. He was careless with his hands, but not rough. I wondered how long that would be the case. Would he beat me at some point? Would he use implements on my body to mark me?

I know at some point the car will stop. I listen to the engine purring, feeling every slight thud on our journey. There is no point protesting or trying to make a sound, I had been silenced and even if I found a voice there was no ear to hear my pleas for mercy.

The wheels of the car continue to turn as the man drives. Images come into my mind about what they look like. How they were being slowly worn down. Eventually one would be punctured, it would deflate as the air left it. It would be left broken, perhaps dumped by the side of the road. I realise this may very well also be my fate. The notion of being worn out, broken and simply discarded as refuse disturbs me, but currently I can think of no other outcome to this scenario.

My thoughts come in a calm steady fashion. It is not as if I am not scared by my predicament, the outcome of my life is my ultimate concern right now. Despite this, I know that there is no point in panicking; my end is out of my control. So I make my mind drift to what has come before, as opposed to what is yet to be.

I have had a life without significant events. I was born into seemingly bright light, but since then much of my life has been lived in darkness. While there has been no trauma or psychological downturns, any light I encountered after I came to be turned out to be relatively artificial in nature. I find my thoughts drifting to my future again. Would I see the sunlight before I die? Would he remove me in the darkness away from prying eyes cursing the lack of light?

I wonder how much farther until he reaches the town of his high school reunion, presuming he was actually going to one. I could not think of any reason for him to lie about this, aside from what he planned to do with or even in the vehicle. I have no idea if he will check into a hotel when he arrives and whether he will leave me in the boot, or whether he will go to his party. What if he does go there and then ‘entertains’ a female in the car? Will I hear them? Will she know I am here? What would be her fate?

Perhaps he has plans to meet with friends. I begin wondering if those friends would assist him in manhandling me should the man determine the time for my use has come. How much of a role would they play? I begin to shiver knowing I could be handled by many and am powerless to do so. I have no way of defending myself given how I have been ‘packaged’. I start thinking about being thrown onto the ground, sworn at, men coming towards me with the look in their eyes about my short term uses for them. I cannot keep thinking like that, I must remain calm. I must keep telling myself that this will all end soon, that I will somehow have the boot opened and be back at the caryard. That everything will be alright.

The car turns onto a gravel road. I try to convince myself he is not seeking isolation but is simply taking a short cut. Despite all the logical arguments I can muster about why my end is not soon, I have this tingling in my very atoms telling me that my time is soon to be.

This thought is halted as I hear a small explosion. The back of the car swerves and the vehicle slows to a stop. I hear the man open the car door and his swearing and frustration is apparent through his words and tone. I can picture the body being angry and tense. A flat tyre is the last thing he needed impeding on this evening’s plans.

I want to tense and tighten my body, but I am too restricted and cannot move. I know the man is coming to open the boot so he can get the spare tyre. I know he will be wielding metal instruments and I know that this means I may be approaching my final encounter.

He opens the boot, sunlight streaming in, intensely bright. His face is showing anger and he curses, expletives being uttered into an air nobody can hear. I am blinded by the light initially, but I adjust and realise it is mid-afternoon. Perhaps, unlike the rest of my life, I will come to my end in the afternoon summer sun. The sunlight warming me into the acceptance of my fate.

He reaches across me, fumbling in the boot for something to assist him in changing the tyre. He ignores my presence, discounting me from the immediate task at hand. He removes the jack, yanking it firmly and making his frustration more apparent.

I lie there, in the heat, feeling the end of the car slowly rise. I contemplate my impending doom with every second that passes, becoming more fearful of how rough he will be when decides it is my time.

The car moves slightly and I realise he has managed to undo the wheel. I had been so scared of what may come I did not even realise he had returned and obtained a tool after the jack. He returns to the boot, greasy hands and colourful language and gestures. He looks at me and I know that his anger has decided he needs to have his way with me and get it over and done with for release.

He pulls for me, cursing that I am heavier than he thought when he first saw me. He uses two hands and his carelessness results in a roughness far more than before. He throws me on the ground and I lay on the dirt while he looks between me and the vehicle.

The man stares at me, sighing and forming a resolution on his face giving me certainty that my end is nigh. I look to the burst tyre next to me and realise I am about to meet the same treatment. The man grabs me then, putting me, the spare tyre, on the car.