DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE Sexting the Don: Chapter 28
I‘m pounding and kicking against the trunk with all I’ve got, my voice hoarse from screaming, but it’s like yelling into a void.
No one hears me. Realizing I’m just wasting energy, I slump back against the side of the trunk, panting and trying to regroup. This whole mess feels like some twisted movie scene, except I’m the unlucky star.
My thoughts race. Has my boss noticed I’m MIA yet?
He’s got to think something’s up when I don’t show. Would he call my mom? Panic flares up, but I push it down. Mom would definitely know something’s gone terribly wrong if she finds out I never showed up for work.
I suddenly realize that she doesn’t have Enzo’s number. Great. This keeps getting better.
Frustrated and running out of options, I stop my futile attempts to make noise. Even at red lights, the city’s din would swallow any sound I could make from within this mobile cave. I have to be smart, conserve energy, and stay sharp.
I force myself to breathe calmly, lying in wait. I need to be ready for anything—a chance to yell for help or bolt as soon as the trunk opens. I listen intently to the muffled city sounds and the occasional bits of conversation from my captors up front. Every detail matters now.
Each second drags, but I’m holding onto the hope that someone is aware I’m missing. It keeps me from spiraling into total despair. I’m not just going to curl up and wait—no way. The moment I get a shot, I’m taking it. They’ve snatched the wrong girl if they think I’m not coming out of this fighting.
Lying here in the dark, I can’t help but wonder if appealing to my father might change anything. Does he have even a shred of love left for his only child to ensure nothing happens to me? Who am I kidding—counting on Jimmy feels like hoping a snake won’t bite just because you ask nicely.
It’s a hard realization as I curl tighter into myself, knowing I’m more than likely on my own in this mess. Even when it is recognized that I’m missing, Jimmy will already have a huge head start. And then there’s this little one, barely the size of a dime, and already counting on me.
I’m not even officially a parent yet, and I’m already leagues ahead of the low bar my dad set.
In a desperate search for some semblance of control, I glance at my watch. A flicker of hope sparks—my phone can track me! But that flicker dies fast.
My phone, my lifeline, is lying back there by the restaurant, possibly already pocketed by some passerby. But then a new hope flickers. If my boss or Enzo finds my phone and purse discarded outside the restaurant, they will know that’s where I was taken from.
A place to start.
I’m trunk-bound and ticking off the seconds, trying not to spiral. I need a game plan, not just for me but for this tiny new reason to fight. If I’m going to get us out of this, I have to stay calm and come up with a workable plan.
They say you don’t know what you’re capable of until you’re tested, right? Well, I consider this one hell of a test.
Panic nibbles at the edges of my sanity, and I take a few deep breaths to shove it back into its cage. I need to stay sharp and rational. I can’t afford to lose it now.
I estimate we’ve been on the road for about twenty minutes. Thankfully, it’s not too hot out, or I’d be baking in this metal oven. Still, it’s stuffy and cramped, and a thin layer of sweat coats my skin, making me increasingly uncomfortable and thirsty.
Determined to find something that might help, I start feeling around the trunk. My hands brush against various bits and gadgets until they clasp around something solid and heavy—a tire iron. But a harsh dose of reality hits; even if I arm myself with it, there’s no way I’ll be able to swing it effectively in this cramped space, much less be able to get it out of the trunk without being noticed.
Gripping the tire iron adds to my resolve; its cold metal is a stark reminder of the severity of my situation. If it comes down to it, I’ll fight with everything I’ve got.
For now, I tuck the tire iron within easy reach and continue to listen, trying to gauge where we might be heading. Each turn, each stop, I catalog in my mind, trying to create a map of our route. It’s a long shot, but if I find a moment to make a move, I need to have all the information I can gather.