After the initial shock of finding out my abductor was a woman, her words finally sank in and I understood. She was going to kill us. Yeah, not just me, us. She’s afraid to die alone. I look at her, and I can see now she’s nowhere near an angry, drunk man, but a scared-of-dying-alone woman on the verge of insanity. I know what it’s like to be there. I still remember how I felt when I moved to Pittsburgh the second time, almost one year ago on New Years Eve. It’s been on my mind a lot lately, and more so now.

She looks at me, the first movement she’s made with her head. Before moving back to the same position, watching the road intently, she manages to get out, “Tell me a story.” I didn’t think I heard her correctly, so I question her.
“Tell you a story?!”
“Yeah, you have ears right? You heard me. Tell me a fuckin’ story.”
“Oh,” I reply.

To be continued…