Page 7 of Dirty Quinn
What kind of fucking idiot wants to get herself kidnapped?
How stupid do I have to be to think I can just let someone abduct me and Reed will come to save me? I don’t even know where he is. Andno oneknows where I am. What made me think this plan was remotely plausible. Why am I so stupid?
My heart beats faster, my breath shallows, my vision blurs. I can feel a panic attack coming on. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m not supposed to have panic attacks anymore. I take two different anti-anxiety meds every day just to make sure.
Breathe. Calm. Breathe. Calm.
Oh god, it’s not working.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’ve got to get out of here! I can’t stay in the van.
It’s too small. The walls too close. The floor too hot.
Sweat drips from everywhere on my body at once. My eyes tear. My nose runs.
Did I just pee my pants?
I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.
No. No. No. I can’t stay here. I can’t.
Please let me breathe. Just one breath and I’ll be okay.
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
I try to pivot my legs toward the doors so I can kick them open. But every turn and brake of the van just sends me sliding in a different direction across the ridged floor.
I still can’t catch my breath.
I’m going to suffocate inside a hot and sticky, windowless van with a dirty sock rag shoved in my mouth.
Breathe. Calm. Breathe. Calm.
Think, Quinn.
I need someone else to know that I’m here. Someone who can call the authorities.
I roll myself to my back with effort and try to stomp my heels on the metal floor. I can’t imagine anyone outside the van will hear me, especially with all the road noise. At the same time, it can’t hurt, right? Like when you’re trapped in a trunk and you bang on the lid even though you can’t see where you are?
Oh thank god, I’m not in a trunk.
Too late to be effective, I try counting the number of turns we take and in which direction. If for no other reason than to keep my mind occupied and off the fact that these guys will probably kill me soon. Between the twists and turns, the heat of the floor, the smell of gas fumes, it becomes too much and I lose count.
I have a feeling we are on a mountain road because it feels like we are on switchbacks, but I can’t be certain. Just one of the many things I’m feeling less certain of.
I want to go to sleep.
My mind is going fuzzy and I can barely keep my eyes open.
Did they put something on the rag to make me sleep?
Shit.
Now I won’t remember anything.
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