"I was locked in the trunk of a car, surrounded by absolute darkness. The air was stale and reeked of gasoline and sweat. I felt cold sweat on my forehead and my heart pounding in my chest. The ropes that bound me cut off my circulation and made me feel weak. The gag that covered my mouth made me feel like I was suffocating. I felt every bump, every curve, and every brake as if it were the last. The noise of the engine and the tires on the asphalt was deafening. I felt like I was in a washing machine, with the world spinning around me uncontrollably. I didn't know where they were taking me or why they had kidnapped me. All I knew was that I was in danger and that no one could help me. The darkness and silence were oppressive, making me feel like I was buried alive.
Suddenly, the car stopped. I heard doors opening and closing, and footsteps approaching. Then, the trunk opened abruptly, and blinding light flooded in. I blinked, trying to focus. In front of me, I saw the faces of my kidnappers: two rough-looking men with cruel grins. Their eyes were cold and calculating, and their smiles were wickedly amused.
"What do we do with her?" one of them asked, with a rough voice.
"Kill her. What else?" the other replied, with a cold voice.
"Here?" the first one insisted.
"No, let's take her somewhere more secluded. We don't want to leave any trails," the second one said, pointing to the surroundings with his gun.
"And how do we kill her?"
"However you want. I don't care. With a shot, with a knife, or with a rope... The important thing is that she doesn't suffer too much. We don't want anyone to hear her," he said, gesturing to the surroundings.
I felt like I was living a nightmare. I couldn't believe this was happening. "And why shouldn't she suffer?" the first one asked, with sarcasm.
"It's not that I feel sorry for her. It's just that this woman is a lousy writer who stuck her nose where it didn't belong. She deserves to die, but I don't want to get my hands dirty with her blood," he said, with a disgusted expression.
I felt like I was in hell. I couldn't believe this was happening. "But I want her to suffer. I want her to know what it feels like to mess with us. I want her to pay for what she did," he said, looking at me with anger.
I felt like I was about to faint. The pain was intense, and I couldn't breathe. "What did I do?" I asked, with a choked voice.
The two men fell silent and looked at me with surprise. Then, they burst out laughing. "What did you do?" the first one repeated, mocking me. "You wrote a book, one that you shouldn't have written. You revealed a case that shouldn't have been revealed. Because of you, we were put in danger, and our bosses were put in danger too. It cost us a lot of money and effort, and it was all perfect. A book that made us very angry, very, very angry," he said, approaching me and grabbing my hair.
"What book?" I asked again. I needed to know how much they knew. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly what book I'm talking about. The one you published a few hours ago. The one titled 'The Hidden Truth'. That damned piece of paper that points to us as the culprits," he said, releasing my hair and slapping me.
This made it clear to me that they were just pawns being manipulated, but what else had happened during this day?
"What?!" I exclaimed, shocked. "It can't be. That book is fiction. It's a made-up case. It has nothing to do with reality," I said, trying to defend myself.
"Didn't you know that the case is real?" he asked, pointing his gun at my head. "Don't lie. You know it's true. But thanks to your confession, this is easy. And you know you're going to die because you're a nail that needs to be hammered down to clear the path for our bosses," he said, pulling the trigger.