Her fingers managed to find and dig through her pockets and she smiled beneath the gag as she felt her cell phone. Justin never was the brightest crayon in the box. She dialed 911 by touch and prayed that the call would go through, when she heard the operator’s voice on the line her body went limp. ~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~` Justin sat at the kitchen table, slamming back his fourth beer. What was he going to do now. He had her but he couldn’t keep her here. Sooner or later someone was going to come looking for her. He had to find somewhere else to keep her, somewhere safe. He popped the top off of another beer, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Why did she have to run away. She was his. His DAMN IT! Why couldn’t she see that. He had thought at first that if he couldn’t have her then nobody would, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t kill her. He loved her. Why did she make him hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t have a choice. She was always like that, doing things to. Out of the building; she lets out an uncharacteristic little giggle as she remembers the stares from the guys on the loading dock when she and her stud emerged from the freight elevator. He was good! Way better than that delivery guy! she thinks to herself. Opening her desk drawer, she pulls out her thong panties which she had removed before going downstairs to meet the stud; I’d better go to the ladies’ room and put these back on! she thinks. Before getting up from her chair, she takes out a small mirror to quickly check her makeup. Intending to take only a quick glance, she does a doubletake; “…That little rat…!” she murmurs softly, gazing at herself in the mirror. She reaches for her phone…J.J. is driving home when his phone, lying on the passenger seat next to him, pings loudly with an incoming text message. He instinctively starts to reach for it, but then he remembers his mom admonishing him that very morning to always keep his eyes on the road when he’s driving. A straight.
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