~CHAPTER 4~
The car slowly came to a stop at the side of the road. We were in a dense forest, with trees towering above us like giants, Mr. Tattoo harshly stepped out of the car and walked over to my side.
He pulled the door open, . "Get down," he growled.
I looked over to the driver, wondering what was going on. Were they going to kill me? I didn't understand a word they had said, so it might be a possibility. We were in a secluded area, far from prying eyes. If they wanted to get rid of me, this was the perfect place to do it.
I thought about my life, about how no one would even notice if I disappeared. I had no friends and no family remaining...well, if my father isn't dead yet, but he wouldn't care.
The thought sent a pang of sadness through me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on my current predicament.
Mr. Tattoo's impatient voice cut through my thoughts. "Get down, now," he repeated, pulling me out of the car.
The forest ground was uneven, and my bare feet stumbled over roots and fallen branches. Mr. Tattoo's tight grip was the only thing that kept me upright, till we reached a towering tree, and he tugged me forward.
"Pee," he snapped, his eyes fixed. I felt my face burn with humiliation as I held my battered gown. I looked over to the car, which was now at a distance away, but not so far that I couldn't see their other sleek SUVs moving past it.
"Umm...can you turn around?" I stammered to him, trying to salvage what little dignity I had left.
Even though my plan was not to actually pee, but rather to use the opportunity to escape. I hoped that Mr. Tattoo would at least have some basic humanity to turn around and give me a semblance of privacy.
Mr. Tattoo's face was a mask of stone and his expression unreadable. He seemed to be sizing me up, wondering if I was trying to pull a fast one on him. But then, he clicked his tongue, before saying, "A gun is in my hands," The implication was clear: don't even think about trying to escape.
He turned his back to me, and I knew I had to be careful; any wrong move could be my last. I slowly turned around, my eyes quickly scanning the surrounding area before I began to walk, further away from Mr Tattoo.
Being barefoot had its disadvantages and advantages. On one hand, my footsteps were quieter, making it easier for me to move stealthily. On the other hand, my feet were vulnerable to the rough forest ground. Every step was a gamble, and I could feel my feet getting cut and bruised with each careful step I took.
The pain was starting to become unbearable, but I didn't stop; I didn't even look back to see how far I had walked. I was too scared and too focused on escaping.
"Are you done yet?" I heard Mr. Tattoo voice growl through the forest. It sounded a little far away, muffled by the trees, which seemed to have swallowed up the sound.
I quickly looked over my shoulder, the darkness made it hard, but I could make out the faint outline of Mr. Tattoo's figure in the distance, and that's when I realized I had walked far enough to make a run for it.
I didn't care much about my bare feet as they stepped on sticks and sharp debris, the pain barely registering in my mind as I began my run. My sole focus was on escaping, on putting as much distance between myself and Mr. Tattoo as possible.
But my reckless pace proved to be my downfall as I failed to notice a sturdy branch lying across my path. My leg stepped on the stick, and it snapped, sending the sound echoing through the forest. I knew for sure that would bring attention, and I was right.
"You sneaky bitch!" I heard Mr. Tattoo's voice spat with venom. Before it was followed by a gunshot that rang out loudly, making me freeze in my tracks.
My heart stopped beating, and my breath got caught in my throat. But as the echo faded away, I noticed something - the shot wasn't aimed at me. It sounded like Mr. Tattoo had deliberately shot towards the sky, perhaps to scare me or to intimidate me into surrendering.
The realization didn't bring me much comfort, though, because it only served as a stark reminder of the danger that lurked behind me.
I began to run harder than before, changing directions, darting between the trees, not wanting him to quickly spot me out.
The forest was dense, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. But having spent most of my time locked up in a dark basement, I had developed a peculiar kind of adaptability. My senses had grown more acute, more attuned to the subtlest sounds and movements.
I could hear the rustling of leaves, could feel the forest soil beneath my feet.
I thought back to my life with my father, the endless beatings, the constant belittling and the feeling of being trapped and helpless.
I thought about how I had finally escaped, finally gotten some freedom, only to find myself in an even more precarious situation but I refused to give up.
It was a strange kind of freedom, but it was freedom nonetheless. And I was determined to hold onto it, no matter what.
I refused to let Mr. Tattoo or anyone else take away my freedom, take me away to their boss or whatever he was, to sell my body to the highest bidder.
The thought sent a wave of revulsion through me, and I dug deep, finding a reservoir of strength I didn't know I possessed.
"Ahhh!" I cried out in pain as my hair was suddenly yanked backwards with such force that I stumbled and almost fell.
"Got you,"