As the clock approached three in the morning, a black Honda pulled up in front of the house where the gunman was hiding.
The car stopped but didn't turn off the engine or lights, and a young man hurried out of the driver's seat.
He glanced around and then opened the rear door, from which he lifted a woman from the back seat to the front of the car, placing her on the ground and looking down at her with a leering smirk.
In the glow of the headlights, the woman's bound hands and feet were clearly visible, with a cloth stuffed in her mouth and her clothes torn in several places, revealing her pale skin.
The woman lay on the ground, struggling constantly, with terror filled in her eyes as she made muffled sounds.
"What's wrong? Wanna talk, huh? Fine! I'll let you talk!"
The young man looked at the woman and said with a smirk, then crouched beside her, reaching out to remove the cloth from her mouth.
"Help! Somebody help me!"
