Elsa sends a quick text to her boss, "pickup done, on our way back now. eta 5 or 6.", then hops up into the driver's seat. Keys in the ignition. Ready to rock and roll. Almost. Not quite.

Anna's face is pressed up against the metal grate that separates the back compartment from the front seats. 'What the fuck's going on? Is this some kind of practical joke? Oh my god, am I being punk'd?'

Punk'd? Is this girl serious? 'Yes.' Elsa says sarcastically, 'You're being punk'd. Because it's 2005 and I'm Ashton Kutcher.'

Anna actually giggles at that. She giggles! Normally they start pissing themselves and crying at this point. Something is really wrong with this girl.

'Aw, come on. It's not that silly. Punk'd actually went until 2015. And they're making a reboot! With Chance the Rapper. But do you know who I think would make a great host? Kristen Bell! Don't you think? She just seems so fun. I'd love to have a drink with her. I'd let her punk me. If you know what I mean. Who's your celebrity crush?'

Elsa isn't cool enough to know who either of these people are, so she says nothing and turns right toward the city centre. She'll loop around a few times, to make sure Anna is well and truly disoriented, grab a coffee, and then head on out.

'But seriously, did my friends put you up to this as a joke? Are you taking me to a party?' Anna's hot breath tickles the back of Elsa's neck through the grate. 'Wait, no! It was my brother, wasn't it? Is this payback for scratching his bike? Jesus Christ, he has such a fucked up sense of humour, sometimes. You know, one time he pretended to be in love with this girl for a full six months, just so that-'

'No! This isn't a prank.' Elsa snaps, mostly out of bewilderment. This is such a weird reaction. Plus traffic on Victoria Parade is brutal this morning and it's got her tense. She needs to concentrate. 'This is an organised crime syndicate. I am legitimately abducting you. No joke. You understand that, right?'

Anna is silent for a moment. Call the press. In a small voice, she asks, 'For real?'

' 'Fraid so, kid.'

Here we go. It just took a while to sink in. Now she'll probably cry and beg to be let go. After another moment of silence, Anna gasps, 'Is this for that sex cult up in the hills?'

'What? No. It's for ransom. From your parents.' Elsa shakes her head in disbelief and slams on the horn as an asshole in a BMW cuts right in front of her. A crash and a chat with the cops is the last thing she needs right at this moment. 'And why do you sound so excited about that?'

'I'm not! I mean, I don't. I've just always been curious what they do up there. Haven't you? It's normal to be curious, I mean, it's so mysterious. What are they hiding, right?'

Elsa doesn't believe such a cult really exists (although she wouldn't put anything past this god-forsaken city at this point - she's seen some shit). It's just a dumb rumour. But even if it did, she's learnt by now that it's never a good idea to poke your nose where it doesn't belong. To ask questions if you aren't sure you can handle the answers. But there's no need to get dark. She clears her throat awkwardly and says, 'I guess we'll never know.'

By the time they reach the city, Anna has decided, unprompted of course, she would also like a coffee. A double shot latte with almond milk and one sugar. And a brownie, too, if they have one.

A brownie. The goddamn audacity.

These rich kids are so entitled when they aren't pissy little cry-babies. Elsa parks next to a construction site and lets down a violet curtain over the grate. It lets in a little bit of light (stops them panicking so much) but ensures that Anna can neither see the outside world, nor be seen by it. Random vehicles similar to hers are parked around the place, loading and unloading. Five hundred tradies, apparently, are standing around in fluro vests, smoking and chatting and occasionally even doing a little bit of work. The sound of drills and jackhammers and industrial vehicle motors makes her head pound even more. But that's the whole point. No one will hear Anna if she decides to finally have an appropriate reaction and start screaming or banging against the van walls. It's padded, anyway, and pretty much soundproof, but these aren't risks one can afford to take in this line of work.

Stopping to get coffee is a risk in itself. Her boss wouldn't approve. But Elsa didn't get much sleep last night and the drive will be rough without it. She grabs a few energy drinks out of the fridge, and makes her way to the counter where a young guy with a mullet and hipster moustache and several ironically bad tattoos on his arms warmly takes her order.

'Could I get a large soy cappuccino, please. And these.' She places the energy drinks on the counter.

'Is that all today?'

'I'll get that falafel sandwich too…' She closes her eyes, ashamed by how soft she's going, 'And the brownie. And a latte with almond milk and one sugar.'

The poor girl has the whole week ahead (or more, depending on how difficult her parents decide to be) to be humbled by a diet of home-brand muesli bars and instant noodles, right?

'How are you holding up?' Elsa settles into her seat but hears no reply. Her heart jumps into her throat and she lifts the curtain to see no glittery, sweaty mess of orange and fluro green. 'Shit.' She flicks on the light and pulls the curtain all the way up to find the little imp crouched in the corner behind the driver's seat, hands over her mouth, holding in a laugh like she might burst.

'I got you good, huh! You thought I was gone. What would happen if you lost me? Would your boss cut your hand off and throw it in the river?'

Elsa lets the curtain fall down again and drives out of the concrete jungle, 'Just for that, I'm gonna drink both of these coffees by myself. And eat the brownie.'

'Aw, come on, sexy blonde criminal! That's cold. You're cold as ice, you know that? Who hurt you? Why are you like this? What's your name, anyway?'

Anna continues to protest the whole way out of the city as the van snakes its way through narrow, grey streets, out from under nets of tram wires criss-crossed overhead like spiderwebs, past bright spray painted alleys and ironically scruffy hipster bars and tattered gig posters all tacked over each other, flapping in the breeze. Under thick concrete overpasses and over train tracks and on toward the freeway. It doesn't bother Elsa. She's used to ignoring much more distressed plees of protest. Threats. Tears. Panic attacks. They all suddenly "need to pee" or they're deathly "claustrophobic", like she's going to fall for that. Calling her "sexy" is a new one, though. Elsa will have to keep her guard up. This one's a wild card.

'Hey, look, I'm sorry I messed with you and called you cold. I'm just really tired and hungover and craving my caffeine fix, and I'm a little nervous, you know? I've never been abducted before. I didn't think you'd really get me the coffee and brownie. It's really kind of you. I mean, you didn't have to do that.'

They're close to the freeway and it's not that Elsa feels sorry for her or anything. It's not like a tiny jaded part of her feels appreciated or something. But this other coffee's getting cold and she doesn't want to drink it, or waste it. She can't eat the brownie either - it's not vegan. She pulls into a side street and slips under the curtain, against the grate, so that the outside remains hidden to Anna, then unlatches the flap and passes the coffee and brownie through.

'Oh, thank you, sexy blonde criminal! You're the best! I knew there was a heart of gold underneath the cool exterior-'

'Stop calling me that.'

'Sorry.' Anna holds her dainty little face very seriously for a second, then breaks out into a cheeky grin, leaning forward with her face against the opening. 'We're so close right now. Kissing distance, I think they call it-'

Elsa slams the latch shut and resumes her position in the driver's seat, feeling oddly flushed. She splashes some water on her face. It's just because this is going a little...differently from how it usually goes. That's all. And Elsa doesn't like that. She likes it when they cry and whimper and beg her not to hurt them because it's predictable and therefore safe. This is just… weird.

'Look, kid,' Elsa holds down the accelerator and watches the speedometer rise. She hates driving on the freeways. It's so much pressure. Always feels like death is amongst them, weaving between the lanes. 'It's good to be nervous. That's your survival instinct. We're not… good people. When we get there, you can't be playing these games. Pretending to disappear. Calling people sexy. They won't find it cute and charming. Just… keep your head down, and you'll be okay, alright?'

That shuts her up for a minute. She's obviously starting to realise the gravity of her situation.

'So you find me cute and charming, then?'

Goddammit. The cheek of this one.

It's a beautiful drive, once you get out of the city. Just clean, green bushland and rolling hills for hours. Elsa always finds it very relaxing, once the whinging and whining in the back dies down, of course. Sometimes she takes the scenic route through the mountain forests, which is just absolutely breathtaking. The giant ferns and ancient trees reaching up into the sky stir something primal and tranquil inside her. The scent of damp earth, moss and ferns is just divine. It's so overpowering that it allows her to escape for a little while. It lets her pretend she lives a different life. A simpler life. A life where she's actually driving to her little cabin where a cosy fire is waiting for her. A life of making homemade jam and pressing flowers and baking cupcakes and making little birds out of fabric. It's a simple dream she knows she will never achieve. Just to sit on a balcony admiring her veggie patch in this beautiful forest and drink herbal tea, wrapped in a patchwork quilt while the soothing rain hits the roof above. Peaceful. Quiet. Content. With someone who loves her.

Today, though, she does no such dreaming, because this girl does not ever shut the fuck up. Two hours in and she's learnt all the details of Anna's whole entire life, or at least it feels like it. From the day her mother went into labour, two weeks early on a goddamn yacht (what is it with rich people and their obsession with yachts?), right up to getting kicked out of her fancy school for repeated skinny dipping in the principal's pool.

'Hey, sexy blonde criminal?'

No need to ask what. Anna will tell her, anyway.

'I need to pee.'

Of course she does. Shouldn't have asked for that coffee.

'There's a bucket in the corner and tissues in the milk crate.'

'What…'

'There's… a bucket in the corner?' Elsa is unsure how she could have been any clearer, 'And tissues in the milk crate. To wipe.'

'Are you fucking kidding me?'

Oh, so this is where she chooses to draw the line. Seriously. She was fine, apparently, with being snatched off the street by a stranger, locked in a van and driven to an unknown destination for an indefinite period of time. But heaven forbid peeing in a bucket. It's funny, the different breaking points people have.

'Can't you just let me out for five seconds? We must be in the bush by now. Just let me go behind a tree.'

'No.'

'Why not?'

Because she might try to run. Then Elsa would have to catch her and tie her up and carry her back and the whole thing would just be so much unnecessary effort.

'Too risky. If you're self conscious about the noise, I'll turn the radio up.'

'Seriously?' Her pitch goes up. The first sign of genuine distress. 'We must be in bumfuck nowhere by now! Where would I even run to? This is cruel! This is an abuse of my human rights!'

'You only just realised?' Elsa turns up the radio a little and hums along. Bon Iver's just come on. It's her guilty pleasure.

'Never mind.' She grumbles. 'I'll just hold it 'till we get there.'

She won't. Nobody does. Nobody likes the bucket. But eventually, everyone submits to the bucket.

But Anna surprises her once again. There is no sound of tinkling against metal, but after about twenty minutes there is a terrible moaning like a certain someone's kidneys are in jeopardy.

'Fuck's sake.' Elsa's foot comes down on the brake. It's probably time for a break, anyway. Fatigue can be deadly. She needs to stretch her legs and eat that sandwich before it gets soggy. She steps out, presses the unlock button and rolls open the door, 'Go on then.'

Anna waddles out, scrunched up and stiff like an old man, with her thighs pressed tight together, and blinks in the bright sunlight. 'I knew you had a heart of gold-'

'Shut up and pee.'

The fluro dress is just sickeningly bright in the sun, like fairy-vomit, and she stands barefoot on the hot bitumen road, surveying her measly choice of trees and bushes.

'Sure you don't wanna go in the privacy of the van?'

'Nope!' She walks slowly like she's tied in a knot, gripping a wad of tissues. Over to a respectably thick paperbark. Looks over her shoulder and skulks behind the trunk. Squats. Pees - presumably. And then she bolts.

She barely gets a few metres barefoot through the hard, sharp ground full of rocks and sticks before she's flat on her front, Elsa's knee between her shoulder blades, hands deftly wrapping duct tape around her ankles and cutting it with a pocket knife. Elsa then hoists her over her shoulder and dashes back to the van because this would be a really inopportune moment for someone to come driving past.

Anna spits out a mouthful of dirt. Her hair is full of leaves and twigs, and there's a nasty gash on the sole of her foot, leaking bright red blood, but she looks awfully pleased with herself, like a cat that's just knocked your mug off the desk. She reaches down to inspect it but it's awkward and difficult with her ankles bound together. 'I cut my foot.'

'That's what you get, running into the bush without shoes.' Elsa rolls her eyes and pulls the first aid kit from under the passenger seat, 'Roll over for me.'

Anna rolls onto her stomach and winces as Elsa cleans dirt out of the wound with water then washes it with Betadine solution. It's not that deep. Shouldn't need stitches. It better not. Taking hostages to the hospital is such a logistical headache. She won't be walking much, anyway. A nice thick band aid should do the trick.

'Do you need to tie my wrists as well?' Anna crosses her hands over each other, behind her back, while she lies there on the floor with a big goofy smile.

'Not unless you run with your- wait a minute.' It dawns on Elsa like the creepy teletubby sun rising into the deep blue sky, 'You're into that, you kinky little freak.'

'No!' Anna giggles like a schoolgirl and turns bright red, 'I'm not into that! Why would you even say that? I'm just acknowledging the fact that I'm completely helpless right now and you could do anything you wanted to me, and I wouldn't be able to stop you.'

'Is this funny to you?' Elsa has had just about enough of this bullshit. Irritation rises in her chest. 'Do you think this is some kind of silly game?' She yanks Anna up by the strap of her stupid fluro dress and stares into her bleary eyes, 'Do you understand who I am? What I do? I do not have a heart of gold. I'm not some fun Disney villain about to break into song. I'm a dangerous person. I'm a fucking monster.' She sounds her next words out very carefully, all sharp consonants and thick vowels, 'I slit throats, and chop off fingers, and shoot people in the face.'

Anna bites her lip so hard it looks like it might bleed and grunts deeply. She writes a little on the spot and her eyes roll back into her head a little bit. She clearly needs serious psychological help.

Elsa sits on the step of the van and nibbles on her sandwich. She's beginning to wonder if this girl's parents are even going to want her back. Is she like this at home? Was she born like this? Did they drop her on her head at some point? Was she just not given enough attention as a child?

Anna crawls awkwardly to her bag, pulls out a smoke, and comes back to sit next to Elsa in the sun, facing outward into the open bushland. 'Beautiful country we live in, huh? I don't get out of the city enough. I should take road trips like this more often.'

'This isn't a road trip.'

Anna shuffles closer. Too close. Elsa shuffles away.

'How is it not a road trip? We're on the road. We're taking a trip. There's music. We're bonding.'

'We're not-' Elsa stops herself, taking a deep breath instead. There's just no point. No rhyme or reason with this one. 'Anna, what did you think was going to happen? Where were you even going to run to? There's nobody around for hours.'

Anna shrugs nonchalantly, 'I thought you might drag me back by the hair like a caveman. But the whole over-the-shoulder thing was a fun surprise.'

Fun. It was a fun surprise. Anna shuffles closer again, and there's no more space to move away, so Elsa just turns back to her with deep concern on her face and says softly, 'Can I ask you a serious question?'

'Sure!' Anna's eyes widen like someone's just got down on one knee and pulled out a ring box, 'Anything!'

'What the fuck is wrong with you?'

Anna gasps, 'Oh that's rich, coming from someone who chops fingers and slits throats-'

'Not for fun!'

'Why do it, then?'

'Money.'

'Oh, come on. There are plenty of other ways to make money. You've got the brains. Clearly you have the looks. There's something else going on. There has to be.'

She's really pushing her luck, trying to get personal like this. It's tempting to tape her mouth shut, too, but the little weirdo would probably enjoy it, and then Elsa would just feel even dirtier.

'I think deep down you're really a sensitive soul. And you don't like being alone but you're afraid to get close to people so you shoot them in the face as a defense mechanism. But, you know what, sexy blonde criminal? You deserve love. Just like everyone else.'

'Alright. Break's over.' Elsa collects Anna's cigarette butt in her little portable ashtray, because there's no excuse for littering, then lifts her bound ankles from the step and shoves her back inside the van, a little rougher than she meant to. She takes Anna's handbag too, popping it onto the passenger seat.

'Wait!' Anna manages to get up onto her knees 'Can I please have some water?'

'Yeah, fine.' Several little 300ml bottles in the glove box look up at Elsa, temptingly. Red lid. Blue lid. Her hand hovers and she's conflicted for a moment but eventually takes the blue lid and hands it over.

Anna gulps it down greedily.

'Yeah, you're looking pretty dehydrated. Try to drink it all.' Elsa strokes the back of her dishevelled, glittery head, mildly disgusted with herself but this girl just makes it so easy, 'Good girl.'

About twenty minutes later, Anna kneels against the grate, slurring her words right behind Elsa's ear.

'Hey sexy… face-shooty lady… I feel really weird… '

'Just relax. We'll be there before you know it.'

Anna's gasp is so long and dramatic it belongs on a stage, 'Did you spike that water?'

'Sorry, sunshine. I'm just so tired and you're...kind of a handful.'

'Hey!' She bangs pathetically on the grate as her body rapidly surrenders to the sedative. 'It is not nice to DRUG people!'

Five minutes later and she's out cold. It's quiet. Just the faithful hum of the engine and the dreary indie music coming from the radio. Not another soul on the hot road, under the wide open sky. Peaceful, empty solitude. Just the way Elsa likes it.