She hated driving at night, alone, or almost alone, on the roads. It was dangerous, and while she didn't live in the slums or a giant crime metropolis like New York, Chicago, or LA, she was right in the middle of an area of urban sprawl - and not in the better parts. Granted, there wasn't much that could happen on the interstate, besides shootings, wrecks, a broken-down car... any of which was enough to get her nerves jangling.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she saw her exit sign a mile back, she shifted easily into the far-right lane. As she went under an overpass, red taillights appeared in front of her, coming down off the viaduct. She slowed a little, allowing them to get into her lane, and frowned as the big black pickup slowed immediately after pulling in front of her. It wasn't until headlights in her rearview and sideview mirrors appeared, however, that she began to worry. The car that had just pulled up beside her flicked on their signal light, moving over literally onto her. Panicked, she pulled onto the verge - followed (in a matter of speaking) by the pickup ahead of her, which abruptly braked. She couldn't prevent herself from plowing into the bed, literally standing on the brake. The headlights from behind her pulled up right on her tail, the reflection in her rearview mirror momentarily blinding her before the lights shut off. The truck that had rammed her over had stopped, and a thrill of grim terror went through her as she realized how neatly she was boxed in. Escape off the road was impossible - a short, steep, grassy drop would leave her in a ditch, then a line of trees surrounding a chain-link fence.

As the driver door to the pickup she'd rammed opened, she made sure all her windows were all the way up and turned off her car, hastily re-locking the doors that had automatically unlocked. A black-leather-jacket clad young man came up, leaning down at her window. Shadowy, half-visible figures emerging from the other cars confirmed her fears. The one who had openly approached her car looked in at her, his face convincingly worried. "Are you alright, miss?" he called through the glass.

"I'm fine," she replied, and gestured to the truck she'd rammed. "Can we just call the police and get this over with?"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," he returned, shaking his head. "Could you roll down the window?" She snorted, she was not nearly that stupid, but smoke from her hood caught her eye and prevented her reply. A silent shadow slipping away from the front of her car on the curb-side of the truck ahead of her gave rise to a suspicion that her car had just been sabotaged further, but a smoky hood left her little choice. A knock on her window drew her attention back to the fakely solicitous driver of the truck that had pulled in front. "Your hood's smoking!" he called, indicating it, only furthering her thought that one of the gang had stuck something under there.

But she was left no choice. Reaching over, she took her purse from off the passenger seat, holding it firmly by the middle of its lengthy strap so that she could swing it like a weapon. Cursing once more the fact that her cell phone had broken the other day, she carefully removed her seatbelt and, hand tightening on her makeshift weapon, unlocked the door, preparing to make a run for it.

She never got the chance. The second her doors unlocked, the man yanked the door open, dragging her out by her arm. Instantly, the others she'd seen were upon her. Screaming and fighting, she never really stood a chance, her purse yanked away by her front-on attacker as another seized her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. Panic, anger, and desperation replaced the blood in her veins with pure adrenaline, but for all her struggling, she could not get loose. Bitter resignation and angry despair overwhelmed her soul as, a cloth slapped over her mouth and nose, blackness overwhelmed her mind.