Snatched

Capítulo Tres : "Things are about to get interesting"

Numbness.

That was all I could feel.

My legs were numb. My butt was numb. My whole body was aching for me to stretch. I could feel the tingles tickling the surface of my skin.

I raised my foot and slammed it down on the car floor continuously,  hoping to wake it up.

“You do realize there’s no insects there, darling,” Max stated, “You look rather stupid slamming your foot down for no reason.”

I glared at him from the side. He was really getting on my last nerves.

”Would you rather I slam it down on your face?” I asked.

“You can’t harm the money maker,” he boasted.

“I always knew you were a male prostitute,” I teased.

“It’s too bad no money in this world would get you lucky with me,” he teased.

“Says the guy who took me against my free will,” I scoffed.

Ugh. My foot is pissing me off. I raised my foot to my lap and started smacking the soles of my foot.

“Will you cut it out?” he groaned.

“If you let me out of this car, then I would leave you alone permanently,” I replied.

“No,” he answered.

“I just want to stretch,” I muttered.

I was being honest. We were currently in the deserted highway. There was no way I could possibly escape. I could always run, but - let’s be honest- I am not going to do it. Running and I don’t exactly go together. We were like water and oil – it doesn’t mix.

“Fine,” he agrees at last.

He checks all his mirrors before pulling to the side, turning on his emergency signals. He does realize there’s no one around, right?

I reach the handle and attempt to pull it open.

What an utter fail? I had forgotten Mr. Delinquent over here put a child lock after I attempted to jump out the car.  It was nothing like in those action films where the actor jumps out effortlessly, rolling to the side without a scratch. That was far from the truth. 

I did manage to jump out of the car. However, anyone around me knows I have no grace-like qualities at all. I failed to catch myself and managed to land on my face- literally.

I currently rocked a scab on my forehead, my knees and elbows held nasty scratches and my back was in utter pain. Max offered to clean it up, but I did not trust him one bit. For all I know, he would try to catch a feel.

“Can you open the door?” I asked bitterly.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “Can I get a please?”

“Please,” I seethed.

“In that case,” he ponders, ”NO.”

I started thrashing in my seat. I reached over and started smacking him repeatedly.

“Down woman,” he chanted, “Down.”

“I am not a dog,” I argued.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“I am positive,” I reply.

“Dang,” he states, “I’m going to have to return that leash and training pads.”

“Jerk,” I spat.

“This is a very serious matter, darling,” he continues, ”I’m going to need to cancel my subscription with PetSmart.”