Parking Lot Conversation

She slowly regained consciousness and opened her eyes. The darkness didn't lift. She was in the dark. She knew that she was curled up lying on her side, her breasts brushing against her knees, her head hanging uncomfortably in lack of a pillow. Her skin was itchy all over, her eyes burned and her throat was sore. She blinked repeatedly and raised her hands to rub her eyes and scratch her face and her hands remained joined together at the wrists.

She was tied up at the wrists and ankles, lying in a dark cramped place, and a constant drone surrounded her. 'I'm in the trunk of a car!' - it dawned on her, and she let out a scared mewl as terror gripped her chest and adrenaline rushed through her system. She was feeling suddenly hot and her breaths came quick and shallow. How did she get here? She remembered gearing up for the parade, lining up with her fellow dance class students in front of the dragon float, and then...it was a blur after that. Small flashes of recollection came and went: a large, grinning man, a pain erupting in her chest, the procession of the parade, but somehow upside down, as if she was being dangled by her feet...

None of it made sense. She has obviously been kidnapped, but how was it even possible, in the middle of the day, surrounded by crowds and cameras, police and private security everywhere?

She was scared and confused. Maybe this was some kind of prank? If it was, it was in horrible taste and whoever did it will be getting sued!

This line of thinking helped shift her from terror to anger. She was still in a bad place, but anger was preferable. It gave her agency. Just they wait, they don't know what they have coming!

Her inner monologue was interrupted when the ride got bumpy, the car taking sharp turns and driving over bumps that made her slide around in her prison. Seconds later it stopped and the engine went silent.

She could feel her heart beat like crazy as she waited for the trunk to open. She was still nursing her anger, but terror started creeping back into her heart.

Suddenly, light. The trunk swung open and cold, white, artificial light flooded it, blinding her. She was stumped for a moment, but started screaming immediately.

Or, rather, she tried. The sound that came out of her mouth was nothing more than a raspy, weak sigh. It's as if she she had spent the previous day screaming on the top of her lungs and now had lost her voice.

Her throat exploded with pain immediately, the sore and tired tissue protesting, demanding to be left to heal.

She stopped. At the same time, hands grabbed her and she got lifted out of her confines and unceremoniously plopped down on cold, hard concrete. She was completely naked, she realised. With her legs tucked in under her and her bound hands in her lap, she blinked furiously and her eyes started adjusting to the light.

Two figures towered over her. A man in a suit, legs slightly apart, hands behind his back, and another male, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, cracking his knuckles, smiling a threatening smile. He stood a pace closer to her than the suited man. Their demeanour suggested he was the boss, the other guy his subordinate.

'Do you have a husband? A boyfriend?'

The question came out of the left field and she said nothing, just looking up at the man in the t-shirt.

The man sighed. He kept looking at her. He had an angular face, wide jaw, high forehead, a scar running across it, as if he had been slashed with a knife once. He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes bore into hers, the promise of pain in that look.

'Do you have a husband? A boyfriend?' - he repeated his question. Same words, but a threatening impatience in his tone this time.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - she replied. Her voice came weak and raspy, like that of a chainsmoker. She had to look away as soon as she stopped talking. She couldn't maintain eye contact. The man scared her.

'Do you have a husband? A boyfriend?'

'Who...' - she started again.

She couldn't continue her sentence. The man's right hand shot forward as he leaned down and it closed around her throat. His palm was so big his fingers met at the back of her neck. He squeezed.

It hurt. She tried to inhale but she could not get the air past her throat. Her eyes grew wide and locked onto his.

The man wouldn't let go. Red dots started dancing at the edge of her vision. She couldn't stop staring into those small, cruel, blue eyes of his. His grip was like iron.

She tried to lift her hands to grab at his wrists, but of course she was tied up, so she ended up ineffectively bumping his arm.

He let go of her throat and straightened up again. She started coughing, ragged breaths escaping her after each inhale. When she drew air in, she made a wheezing sound.

'Do you have a husband? A boyfriend?'

'I...'-she coughed again, '...don't.'

'Why?'

'What?'

'Why don't you have a husband or a boyfriend?'

'I... I don't know, I...I'm sorry mister, I don't understand. Why are you asking me? Who are you? What do you want from me? You want to **** me?'

'I already did.'

She remembered now. It all came flooding back and she found her throat seize up, this time without him touching it.

'Oh god, please, please let me go, mister, please, you had your fun, can I please go? Please!'

'I promise I will not fuck you again.'

'Oh...'

'Thank me.'

'Thank...thank you for not fucking me again.'

'Why are you thanking me, you stupid whore?'

'But you just told me to thank you, I don't understand what you want from me, please, I'm scared, you scared me, OK? You fucked me, you hurt me, that's what you wanted, no? You're done with me, you just said so, let me go, please!'

The man laughed.

'I said no such thing.'

She was finding it hard to keep up with the man. He was making no sense.

'You...'

'I will not fuck you again' - he interrupted. 'I'm not done with you, though.'

'You will..you will kill me! Oh god, please, mister, please don't kill me, I will not call the police, I won't tell anyone, you can fuck me again if you want, please, I'll suck you off, I'll do anything, please, please!'

'No. Now shut up.'

She started crying, but tried to suppress it. She was hyperventilating, she was cold and scared and she was convinced she was about to be murdered by some psycho and his goon in a car park.

'For fuck's sake, why don't you believe me? I would never kill a person. I would also never kill an animal. And that's what you are to me. An animal.'

'Animal?' - the whole scene started to take up an absurd quality to her. This was not the exchange she would have ever imagined when in danger. This guy was clearly aggressive and hateful, but he kept throwing non-sequiturs at her. Was this a dream? It sure felt like one.

'You're not dreaming.'

'Huh?'

'I've dealt with animals like you before, I'm not psychic. Anyway, I don't feel like explaining to an animal why it's an animal. You said you didn't have a significant other. Are you in touch with your parents?'

'Y-yes, I am.'

'Do you know their number by heart?'

'Yes.'

'Good.'

He pulled a phone out of his pocket. He asked her for a number. She gave her mom's.

He put the phone on loudspeaker as it rang and held it in front of his face. The ring reverberated in the concrete hall that was the underground car park. It made her more aware of her nakedness, somehow. It made her feel cold.

After a few rings her mother answered.

'Hello?'

'Hi, sorry to bother you!' - the man smiled and she was horrified by how pleasant his expression has become, all of a sudden. He looked like a tough guy next door, someone rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold. Almost sexy, even. She shuddered.

'I'm here with your daughter and she wants to speak to you.'

He turned the phone and pointed the screen at her face. Her mother's face was looking back at her.

'Jasmine? Jesus! You're naked!'

'Mom, help me! He kidnapped me, I'm in a car park, he's a big white man with a scar and he's...'

The man turned the screen to face him again.

'My name is John Doe and I **** your daughter about an hour ago. I am still using her for sexual gratification.'

'Great! How was it?'

She couldn't believe what she just heard. Her mother's conversational tone was more shocking than anything that happened to her so far.

'She's quite tight. She throws up quite easily when I fuck her throat, though. Is that a family thing?'

'I wouldn't say so, Mr Doe. I was always surprised she gagged every time she brushed her teeth. Jasmine was always a little sensitive.'

'That's not her name.'

'Oh, OK, I'm so sorry! What is it?'

'It's Hole.'

'Awww, that's so fitting!'

'Well, Mrs Hole, on that we agree! Anyway, I don't want to hold you up too long, I just wanted to get two things out of the way.'

'Shoot.'

'First, does Hole have any fears that cut deep? Any phobias or traumatic memories?'

She kept staring at the man in disbelief. This could not be her mother, chatting away with the man who **** and kidnapped her!

'No phobias as such. Let me think. Oh yes, she has an uncle who has been locked up for beating a man to ****. Jas...Hole used to be very fond of him when she was small, so when he got arrested and when she watched the CCTV of him stomping the guy's head in online, it gave her nightmares for years.'

'Fucking Liveleak, am I right?'

'Haha, certainly, Mr Doe! Anyway, if there's one thing that triggers my beautiful daughter, it's the memory of Uncle Rico.'

Hole found herself shaking even more at the mention of that name. An unnatural fear creeped into her consciousness and enveloped the terror she was already feeling. Life could not get more horrifying than this.

'Mom, don't!' - she cried out.

John glanced at the man in the suit and gave him a nod.

The goon stepped forward, pulled his right arm back, then punched Hole in the stomach.

She screamed, or at least she tried to, then collapsed sideways onto the cold concrete. She remained there, tears streaming from her eyes, looking off into the distance.

'I had to get my driver to punch her.' - John said to Hole's mother. 'That's a good sign.'

'I heard that. I'm a bit worried about her, John.'

'Oh, Mrs Hole please don't worry. It caused her a lot of pain, but it was all in the service of getting me off.'

'That's OK, then.'

'Now, my second question is closely tied to your answer to my first one. Where is Uncle Rico kept?'

'He's in Sunnydale, just outside of town.'

'The Supermax? Wow. Rough place.'

'No kidding! We don't visit him at all, nowadays, but I took Hole there once, a year into Rico's sentence, and she genuinely peed herself!'

'What a stupid cunt!'

'I know, right?'

The man turned away and took a few steps, building a distance between himself and Jasmine. He kept talking to her mother and she heard her laugh. Laugh!

He returned after a minute and held the phone with the screen facing her. Her mother's face filled the screen. She was smiling.

'Hole, I will never see you again. The nice man will make sure your holes are utterly destroyed and that the rest of your life is pure ****. Love you, Honey!'

John hung up.