The sound of moaning caught her by surprise.
Was someone here?
Where was here?
Paisley felt numb. Like she was floating. She was so tired. She wanted to let her mind go blank and drift away again but something was niggling at the back of her mind. A memory, but she couldn’t catch hold of it. She felt like she should be moving, like she shouldn’t be here, but she had no idea why.
There was that moaning again.
Where was it coming from?
The moaning was coming from her.
With that realisation she was flooded with pain. It covered every inch of her like a heavy blanket.
She still had no idea of the cause, when suddenly she was blinded by light.
Instinct had her squinting against it and raising her hands to cover her face. Then everything came back with a rush. The man in the road holding a human head. He’d pointed a gun at her. She’d lost control of the car and crashed it.
Now someone was standing beside her car.
Trying to open the door.
When the man with the flashlight began to try to force her battered car’s door open, Paisley forgot about the pain, she forgot about everything but getting out of here.
Her hands were shaking badly, and she fought with her seatbelt to get it undone. Her limbs were heavy and sluggish, and once the seatbelt finally came undone she got tangled in it as she tried to shove it away from her.
With a huge creak that shuddered through the car, the man wrenched open her door.
Large hands reached for her.
Paisley tried to move out of his reach, climb further back into the car where she could escape through another door, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, and soon those large hands were wrapping around her biceps and dragging her from the car.
She screamed, and screamed, and screamed as though her life depended on it. Because it did.