Just like before
The stuff nightmares are made off. Or maybe the start of a horror film.
Bump.
Bump.
Each bump reverberates.
Bump
I think I’m in the boot of his car.
Bump
Each one bounces me off the sides of where I am.
Bump.
I can’t even brace myself, I can’t move. I can hear the radio, and the car noises, but can’t open my eyes.
Bump
We left the smooth road a while back, I can’t even tell you how long ago. I remember him coming over, and then the bumps rousing me to here.
Bump
I get thrown I presume forwards and then nothing.
We have stopped, the car is turned off. I hear his door open, his feet meeting ground, the door slams, his footsteps on dirt. They are getting quieter with each one, he is walking away.
Oh, I wish my heart would be quiet, he is going to hear it pounding.
His footsteps get louder, he is coming back.
My breathing get more erratic. I want to scream, but even if I could, would it make a difference?
A car door opens. Something is dumped on the back seat. The door slams shut.
His footsteps come to the back of the car. I can hear him light a cigarette, take a drag, blow it out. I can smell it. He leans on the boot.
He stops.
I try to calm my breathing.
He huffs. He’s smiling.
‘Don’t worry darlin’, you’ll like where we are going.’
He walks back to the front of the car. A door opens, the car bounces as it adjusts to his weight as he sits down.
‘It’s just like before.’
Like before?
The car engine turns over and eventually starts.
There was a before?
The car jolts forward as the handbreak gets released.
Bump.
The car is turning, still on a dirt track.
How many times before?
‘You’ll be home in no time.’
Will I? Like last time?