Prologue

She knew someone was with her, lurking in the dark. It was around ten o'clock in the evening when Jennifer Mason went out of the hospital. As she was making her way to the parking lot, she sensed that someone else was following her. She turned around to see if anybody was there, but all she saw was an empty hallway. She continued to walk towards the parking lot. As she was searching for her car, she noticed a dark figure pass behind her. She abruptly turned to see who it was, but all she saw were parked cars. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. She hurriedly looked around for her car. At last, she saw her car. Her panic level turned to a zero. She has never been this happy to see her blue Volvo parked next to a gray Lamborghini. She picked up her pace and went to her car. As she was about grab the keys out of her purse, a hand covered her mouth. She screamed but the hands muffled it. She caught a glimpse of the person at her car's windshield. The person was a 'he', with big black vest covering his gray shirt. The man pulled her away from her car. She tried to kick his shin. Fortunately, she hit the bull's eye. But unfortunately, he didn't even flinch.

"Nice try, missy" he said.

She recognized the voice, but she couldn't tell who. He dragged her behind a van. She kept on kicking and kicking, but she was too weak. She heard two women emerge from the building, talking and laughing. The man cursed under his breath. Jennifer's glimpse of hope suddenly disappeared as the man smacked her head on the ground.

When she regained her consciousness, she found herself curled up inside some kind of a box. It was absolutely dark and she can't see a single thing. Her hands were bounded together by a duct tape, same with her ankles. A piece of cloth was gagged around her mouth. She could taste her own blood coming from her own tongue. It stung. She tried to move around the box but pain quickly took place. She panicked; her brain feels like it's going to explode. You need to get a hold of yourself, Jennifer. If you want to live, try to get out of here. She said to herself. She tried to unbind the duct tape but it seems like it'll only break her bones if she tried hard enough. She was lying face down; she felt carpet on her face. She heard a car engine come to life. The box suddenly vibrated, she could smell a smoke from a car. That's when she realized she was in the trunk of some car. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. He's taking me somewhere. Oh no, think Jennifer think. She squirmed inside the trunk, hoping to find any sharp object so she could at least cut the duct tape bounded on her hands. She moved her head up to the trunk and searched for something sharp, but felt nothing. She tried her fingers; she moved it around the roof of the trunk. Finally, her index finger was pricked and she felt a warm liquid oozing out from her finger. Thank you! Oh my god! Thank you. She moved her arms up to the sharp thing and quickly moved her bounded hands back and forth so that the duct tape could be cut off. Please, let me live. Let me live! Hope was fueling her body to move. Her limbs were already tired from moving. Sweat trickled down her forehead. Weariness was starting to creep in her limbs. Come on, come on! Suddenly, her dash of hope vanished when the car came into a halt. She was thrown out to her right side. Her head banged against the trunk. Oh no! It stopped. He's going to take me out here and finish me in someplace dark. No, I don't wanna die! She could hear the man's footsteps coming near her. It seems like they are in an abandoned place because of the crunching of dead leaves when he steps. Jennifer's heart beat went louder and faster. The footsteps came to a stop. She froze. The trunk suddenly creaked. Then a bright beam of a light flashed down at her face. She winced from the light. When the man turned it off, she could see his silhouette. He was big, but she couldn't tell if it's because he was actually big or is it because of the vest he's wearing. She noticed the man was holding something on his right hand; it was cylindrical in shape and a bowl shape at the end. It was the flashlight he beamed at me a while ago. He was also holding something at his left hand. Its handle was a bit slender, then forming a pointed metallic object at the end. She caught her breath when she realized he was holding a very familiar object she uses in her daily job; a scalpel.