Page 45 of Piston

As I made my way to the checkout, I couldn't help but feel like everyone was staring at me. The cashier, a bored-looking teenage girl, barely glanced at the test as she rang it up.

"That'll be $8.99," she said, popping her gum.

I fumbled with my wallet, my fingers clumsy as I pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill.

"Keep the change," I mumbled, shoving the test into my purse.

The girl shrugged, handing me the receipt. "Have a nice night."

I managed a tight smile before hurrying out of the store. The night air felt even more oppressive than before, the weight of what I'd just done settling heavily on my shoulders.

As I stepped out of the market, a sudden chill ran down my spine. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, their eyes boring into the back of my head. I glanced around the parking lot, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary, but everything seemed normal.

"Get a grip, Jenny," I muttered to myself, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. "You're just being paranoid. No one's following you."

But the unease refused to dissipate. I quickened my pace, my sneakers slapping against the pavement as I headed towards my car. The lamposts cast eerie shadows across the lot, making every movement seem sinister.

I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking as I tried to unlock the door. "Come on, come on," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

The cold blade of a knife pressed against my throat, and a rough hand clamped over my mouth. I froze, my scream dying in my throat.

"Don't make a sound, or I'll cut you," a gruff voice hissed in my ear. "Do exactly as I say, and you might live through this."

My mind raced with thoughts of Piston, of the danger he warned me about. I should've listened, should've stayed home. But it was too late for regrets now.

The man shoved me forward, the knife never leaving my skin. "Drop your shit and get in the van."

A beat-up van idled nearby, its side door open like a gaping maw. Every instinct screamed at me to fight back, to run, but the cold steel against my neck reminded me of the consequences.

With shaking hands, I let my purse and the pregnancy test fall to the ground. The man kicked them aside, pressing me forward.

"P-Please," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to do this."

He laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "Shut up and get in."

I climbed into the van, my legs trembling beneath me. The interior was dark, the windows blacked out. The door slammed shut behind me, and the man shoved me onto the floor.

As the van lurched forward, I huddled in the corner, my arms wrapped around my knees. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. All I could think about was Piston, and how desperately I needed him now.

I didn't know where they were taking me, or what they planned to do. But one thing was certain - I was in more danger than I ever could have imagined. And this time, I wasn't sure if Piston would be able to save me.

A figure looms in the shadows, his presence filling the cramped space. He was big, his broad shoulders straining against his leather jacket.

"Tie her up," he grunted, his voice low and menacing.

Rough hands grabbed my arms, yanking them behind my back. The zip ties cut into my wrists as they were pulled tight, the plastic biting into my skin.

I thrashed against my bonds, a scream building in my throat. But before I could make a sound, a thick cloth sack was forced over my head, plunging me into suffocating darkness.

"No! Please!" I begged, my words muffled by the heavy fabric.

My heart raced, pounding against my ribs like a caged animal. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All I could do was feel the terror coursing through my veins, the sickening realization that I was completely at their mercy.

A hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my cries. The sharp rip of duct tape echoed in my ears as they sealed my lips shut, silencing me.

I writhed on the floor, my legs kicking out blindly. But it was useless. They were too strong, too prepared.

As the zip ties tightened around my ankles, immobilizing me, I felt a wave of despair wash over me. This couldn't be happening. Not to me. Not like this.

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