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He kept driving but his hand didn’t move any further up my leg ... I could see he was thinking. I slowly reached down to the floor for my bag.
“Leave it there,” he snarled.
“Then get your hand off me,” I said. “We’ve been friends for a long time Ken, don’t ruin this now.”
“You were mine before he came along,” he said. “He’s got no right to you.”
I swallowed, following his strange logic.
“Ken, pull over please. I want to get out now.”
He then took a left turn instead of a right and my heart raced, I think I was going to be sick. There was no one on the road near us, I couldn’t even signal for help, and we were getting further out of the built-up area. I reached down and grabbed my bag, and his hand swung from my leg to my face, hitting me hard. I was used to getting hits in the game, but I was unprepared for this, I felt the blood rushing from my nose.
My mind was screaming alerts ... I was more shocked than hurt, but I grabbed for my bag again, reaching in for my phone. Ken grabbed my bag and threw it into the back seat. I turned my back to him and swiped the screen. Ken’s fingers dug into my shoulders and he yelled, “Give me the fucking phone!”
I hit The Russian’s number, and thank God he answered on the first ring. His smooth voice welcoming and unprepared for my needs.
“Help, Russian!” I screamed.
Ken pulled over sharply and I hit the side of my head against the window of the passenger seat. He grabbed me and I kept yelling to The Russian.
“I’m in a taxi, Ken ...” the phone fell to the ground and Ken pulled me towards him, sticking his tongue into my mouth. I spat and bucked and tried to push away, but he was so much bigger. I was strong, but I couldn’t get away from him, he was just bulk. I was pressed hard against the door; the door that wouldn’t open. I started bashing at the window, trying to break it. I could hear The Russian calling out to me and then he stopped. I knew he would be getting help.
Ken pulled his tongue out of my mouth and yelled. “Fucking stop that, bitch,” he said, and pushed me back hard against the seat. I turned around to see if the back seats had door handles and they did. Thank God! I shoved Ken with all of my might—years of pushing weights had to help—but I could only push him so far; I was trapped in the front of his car just by his bulk and the small amount of space we had. He grabbed me by the back of my neck and I scratched and hit him like a cat. He pushed my head onto his leg, and I heard him undoing his zip. He was going to force me onto him. I grabbed at his crotch and squeezed until he screamed and released my neck. I drove a fist into his throat and dived into the back seat.
Ken was gasping for breath, but his arms flailed, trying to grab me as I was half in-half out of the front and back seats. I pushed through, opened the back door and ran. I didn’t have my phone or handbag, and I didn’t care. I pulled off my high heels, abandoning them and just ran back towards the turn-off and the main road. My knee buckled and I stumbled but kept going.
I ran as fast as I could and I prayed my knee would hold up. My chest was tight with anxiety and trying to breathe at the pace I was running. I kept going, in the dark, feeling the hard road on my bare feet. I felt like I had been running forever, all the time my hearing was finely tuned, expecting the sound of Ken’s car any moment. I knew he wasn’t fit enough to chase me on foot.
I kept glancing back and then I saw some headlights – he was coming after me. I left the road, ran into the thin scattering of trees along the side of the road, and threw myself flat onto the ground. His headlights wouldn’t pick me up now.
That didn’t stop Ken; he was driving really slowly up the street and had put on the large spotlights on both sides of his taxi sign. They shone into where I lay, but above my head. I stayed put, trying not to make a sound, praying that I would be spared. I stayed that way for what felt like hours, but it wasn’t. Eventually, his car passed me and went out of sight. I pulled myself up, staying close to the edge, in case he swung back again.
Then I heard a siren, a police car, but I still couldn’t see it. Had they picked him up further along the road? I started limping up the road in that direction. I could have cried with joy as The Russian’s car came into view. I waved him down, he pulled over, hurried from the car and grabbed me. He held me even though I tried to pull away, just to breathe. He released me long enough to check me over. I guess I didn’t look that good with the blood down my front and dirt over my clothes from laying flat on the ground.
“I’m okay, just got a fright,” I said, still in shock. I knew I was shaking, but I was operating on adrenalin. “He’s in his car, that way,” I pointed to the way The Russian had just come from. “I hit him in the throat and ran.”
“They’ve got him. You’re bleeding, limping ...” The Russian was saying.
“I didn’t encourage him, he was a taxi driver ... at the rank,” I started to justify myself, something I would never have done before my relationship with The Russian.
“Christ, Brooker, don’t even think that, it never occurred to me,” The Russian said, looking shocked. “None of this is your fault.”
“I lost my shoes back there somewhere, my phone and bag are in his car,” I said, still raving.
“It’s okay, Brooker ... Carla, shh, take a breath.”
I nodded still breathing fast, my eyes darting around like I expected Ken to come back. But, everything was quiet and still except for my breathing. The Russian continued to support me, watch me ... he probably expected me to become more hysterical any minute.
I shook my head. It had been such a great day and night up until then. A car’s headlights lit the road and I pulled closer to The Russian. A security van sped our way and braked suddenly on seeing us. Eddie and another guy in a security uniform jumped out.
“You’re safe,” Eddie said, exhaling.
“Thank you, yes,” I said.
“The cops have arrested him,” the other security guy said.
“Thanks, Jack,” The Russian said, and stroked my back with his hand. He left me momentarily to go to his car, and came back with a towel.
