William
The words certainly don't match with his voice. His words seem soft, however, his voice holds a rope to cunningness, and I'm not certain if trusting him should be among my options. But then again, I have limited time and choices. If I don't go with him, I may not find the exit, and I will get caught; lord knows what will happen to me once I'm caught. Given the end chain, I'm certain I will end up where I don't want to.
Hence, the reason I nod my head in agreement despite the heavy metal covering my head. What could be the worst: getting kidnapped, getting my organs harvested? At least I won't have to see the face of my mother when she discovers where I was adopted from.
"Get in." His words come out more like an order, maybe it's because of his deep voice, or his physique that seems more powerful than mine. Either way, I fear him from his voice. But I fear everyone in here at the moment, so I obey as I hop into his car and watch as he goes around the car to the driver's seat.
Perhaps I should find his dressing strange; he's dressed almost like the man who had tossed me this helmet. I should also find this luxurious car suspicious, or I should have a look at his face to be certain he won't harm me. You know, the look on someone's face can hint at what their plans are.
Yet, I choose to sit still and zip my lips closed, hoping my guardian angel helps in keeping me safe tonight as the strange man in the driver's seat starts the engine.
"Do you plan to keep the helmet as a treasure?" He breaks the silence, his eyes ahead, and if my ears are faulty, I won't have thought he was the one to have said that, giving his neutral look, mixed with his fixed attention on the road. As he should.
"Huh?"
I finally turn to him, still unable to meet his gaze. The helmet is just too heavy, making it difficult for me to lift my head to meet his gaze.
However, I can see his hands gripping the steering wheel.
Without thinking. I trace the veins from his hands, curious to know just how prominent and where it could end.
"You could simply take off your helmet and have a good look at me." The man goes on, pushing me to dart my gaze abruptly.
"You can drop me off here." We are a distance away from the field, even though I get down here, it's impossible to get caught.
But the laugh from the side makes me question myself. It feels more like he's laughing at me after making a stupid decision, and honestly, I can't tell which of the stupid decisions I've made tonight that he is laughing about.
"I see you are now desperate to get far away from me?" He remarked. He isn't wrong, and so I find no need to try to respond.
"Fine," he muttered before halting the car, and I could feel the wave of ease washing away my discomfort as I finally felt I'm done with the night's problem.
But the sound of the door pinning down causes my breath to hitch in my throat while I froze in place with my eyes widened. My fearful expression was hidden, all thanks to the helmet.
"W-what are you going to do to me ?"
However, my voice is unable to hide the volcanic fear erupting within me as it trembles beyond control.
"You are supposed to know by now that I have no intentions of hurting you...Look, I saved you." Still, his voice has the twists and turns like the devil when he's trying to tempt a saint.
I don't respond. I can't respond.
My hands are already quivering, my heart pounding in my chest, and beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you," the man goes on.
But I've seen the scene play out before in the movies, and the scaredy cat always ends up dying.
Unfortunately, I am the scaredy cat, the victim who is bad with his fists and who may have his body decapitated tonight.
I hear him sigh, and I hear the seat unbuckle. No, don't come close to me. I have done nothing wrong...tonight
Or maybe nothing as bad as to deserve death tonight.
"Are you a racer?" The question hits me and leaves me in confusion.
"You seem to know the turns and tricks on how to win a race, although I may confess, you are not as good as I want, but you are better than a lot of racers I've met.
"What do you mean?" I ask, still holding my hands.
"I want you on my team."
His voice had become cold as if he were tired of putting up an act.
"I'm not a racer." I correct him because he is wrong.
My gaze falls to my hands, which I squeezed tightly, holding myself from exploding. Be it tears, screams, or trying to put up a fight knowing I'm going to lose. I know it's only a matter of time before I am unable to contain myself.
He scoffs before I can feel him lean closer by my side. I abruptly turn, my hands reaching out to stop him from getting closer.
However, my hands met with the hard surface of his body. Strong, thick, and muscular. I suddenly wanted to feel more if it was actually a chest I was feeling at the moment. But I felt his rough hands rub mine on his chest.
"Your fingers are delicate. Perhaps you are a lady."
"Let me go." I make no efforts to
"I made no effort to correct him." Besides, this is not the first time I have been mistaken for a girl.
"I see talent in you and -"
"I don't want to be a racer. Now let me go. "
I spoke firmly, and I felt him stiffen. Anger was beginning to surge through my veins at his proposal.
Who does he think he is to call out my faults in racing?
"I am not interested." I continue, hoping he listens and just lets me go.
It takes a minute of silence, with my hands feeling the slow and steady heartbeat of his chest, which is in contrast with my fast and unsteady heartbeat.
The door clicks, signaling the door has been unlocked,d and I waste no time on pulling the door handle as I make my way to get down the car.
"You won't have a choice the next time we meet"
The strange man says, causing shivers to run up my spine before I swing the door close and began to make away with the helmet still on.
"We certainly will never meet again"