Day 18

Your character gets in a taxi but the driver takes has their own ideas about where they're headed...

I threw my case into the back seat, and told the driver where I wanted to go. He nodded and kicked the meter on, and started the vehicle. For the first few miles, my mind was elsewhere, wondering what had happened and how I was going to resolve the problem.

I hadn’t meant it to end like this. I hadn’t meant it to end at all. Where had it gone wrong?. Was it because I had assumed too much. Did we not mean as much to each other as I thought? Were we not meant to be together for ever and a day?

My thoughts spiraled round like a hamster in a cage. I was unsure whether to cry or to rage at the world. My only desire was to put as much space between him and me as I possibly could.

Gradually my breathing calmed, and as I gazed out of the grimy cab window, I realized that we didn’t seem to be heading in the direction of the airport. I tapped on the glass separating passengers from the driver, and shouted for him to turn round. I needed to get to the airport. I had to fly home. I couldn’t stand being in this city any longer.

The driver looked back at me through the rear view mirror, but said nothing in response to my voice. I shouted again, and banged like a madwoman on the shatterproof glass . I even took my shoe off and used that as a hammer. There was still no response, and no backward glance this time.

I grabbed the door handle. It wouldn’t turn. The doors were locked and I was in a taxi that wasn’t going where I needed to be.

Panic rose in my throat. I screamed at the driver; tried to wind down the windows to call out for help. Nothing in the rear of that vehicle would open for me.

I should have been concentrating when we set off; if I had not let my thoughts drift into the reasons why, I would have noticed we weren’t heading in the right direction for the airport.

What to do now? I had no idea. Where could he be taking me? Was I about to be assaulted or worse, killed. Once again the panic rose, threatening to overwhelm me. I squirreled deep into my handbag; did I have anything I could use as a weapon; no, I have removed everything that could be considered as useful, in preparation for the security check at the airport.

I unlocked my case. Was there anything in there that might work …… a bottle of perfume, some books spare shoes, my camera…………. My camera! I could take a photo of the driver and his meter number, at least when I was found, they’d have something to identify him! I pulled it from the jumbled clothing and raised it to take that snapshot of the back of his head.

The flash almost blinded me, reflecting back from the glass. For a moment I couldn’t see clearly, but as my vision cleared, I could see that the photo had not come out well enough to identify the meter number.

Still thinking hard, I rummaged again, tossing the camera back into the case. So concentrated was I, that it wasn’t till the vehicle started to slow down that I realized my time was up. Looking up from my task of trying to find some sort of weapon, I realized that we were close to a street that I felt I knew. What was this? As the taxi pulled to a halt, the rear doors unlocked and I scrambled out, heart racing. I grabbed my bags and set them down on the pavement.

I turned to face the driver …….. what the hell were you thinking of. I wanted the airport, why have you brought me here………………. Still shouting, I stopped, shocked into silence as firm hands gripped my shoulders. A scream was rising in my throat as I was turned quickly around to face…………….. him.

I didn’t want you to go, he said, so I paid the taxi driver to bring you back. Forgive me. Please come back, it was all my fault. Sobbing , I fell into his arms.

****

“Piccadilly Circus.”

The driver merely nodded as I clambered into the car. Far too absorbed with the phone in my hand, I didn’t see the hungry way he had looked at me, sizing me up. It didn’t even cross my mind that his intentions could be anything but honourable. Sure, I heard the stories but who honestly believed it could ever happen to them?

I certainly hadn’t.

It was why I didn’t react quickly enough when he pressed the small square of fabric against my face , leaving me defenseless to the fumes that crept through my nose, taking my consciousness with me.

And just like that my life was taken from me. One mistake is all takes.

I guess that’s why I’m writing this. People need to know that it does happen. I’m not even sure if anyone will find this but I’ve got to try right? I need to tell somebody, anybody. He’s the only one I see now and he has never talked to me, like properly, a real conversation. He just barks his instructions, threats, whatever you want to call it. It has been seven long years since I saw any face apart from his.

Even my memories are no longer enough. The faces of my friends, my family, the people I left behind have long since blurred unrecognizably. It is as if they are nothing more than a dream, a fantasy about a happier time.

This room is my life.

Gone. The rest is gone now. I would give everything to get it back but I know I can’t. In those first few weeks, I fought as hard as I could. Of course, I did. I screamed until no more sound would come. I hit him, kicked him, bit him. It’s human nature. The will to survive.

It wasn’t too long until I realized it was pointless. He wasn’t human so I couldn’t beat him. He was something else; the monster nobody wanted to believe exists.

If he finds this he’ll laugh at me, at my foolishness but I don’t care, not anymore. This is my lifeline. Here, in this room, it is far too easy to lose yourself. Days are stretched, each hour excruciating. I’m no longer a part of the world but trapped within these four walls. The only thing I have left is my own thoughts but I fear that they too will soon be snatched from me.

They are all I have left.

I can not lose them.

So here it starts the memoirs of a missing woman.

The woman the world forgot.