Complete darkness. She can faintly hear the radio playing from up front. The trunk smells musty and gross but she is so used to it, it smells rather homey to her. There is no indication as to where they are going. No indication of why either. She was thrown in the trunk after being in that God-forsaken room for at least three months, maybe more. The silence is broken by a loud siren. Loud curses are streamed from the front seat. James was speeding. The car slows down and slowly comes to a stop. The siren is gone but the tense anticipation is not. A hurried warning is given to her about what will happen if she doesn't keep her mouth shut.
She can hear the footsteps as they approach the car. A hand lightly pushes the trunk down, as is routine for most officers. She listened intently as the window rolled down and the officer's smooth voice filled the air.
"License and registration, please." His voice was hypnotizing to her. She knew if she attempted to get his help and failed the consequences would be awful, but that was a risk she was willing to take.
"I'm sorry officer. I didn't realize that I was speeding. We have been on the road for a few hours. The monotony of the road must have been getting to me." She could picture his 'charming' smile that he gave everyone to get out of trouble. It always worked.
"I will just go run these and I will be right back." This was her chance. His soft footsteps started back towards where his car must've been parked. Her breathe was coming out in quick pants. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins. She wasn't sure that she could even scream. Her voice hadn't been used for a while. He was almost right next to the trunk. She took a deep breath and started banging on the trunk lid fiercely and a whispered help came out. His footsteps slowed to a stop next to the trunk so she started banging harder, even though the cuts on her hand were screaming in protest. She cleared her throat and tried to say help again. It came out slightly louder and soon she was screaming as loud as she could. The footsteps moved away from her and the backseat was thrown forward and three very angry men were looking at her from the front seat. She had failed.