“Hey!” I scream. “Stop!”
They pound on the car windows harder. My heart races as I quickly wake up out of my sleep.
They’re wearing black ski masks with crude eye holes that make them look like robbers from all the movies I’ve ever watched. One of them is holding a hammer, bringing it down against the passenger window with massive force.
My hand fumbles desperately for the keys still dangling from the ignition. I need to start the car and get out of here. My fingers close around the key ring, but they’re trembling so violently that I can’t get a proper grip. The keys slip from my grasp, falling somewhere into the darkness between the seats.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whimper, my hands scrabbling blindly for the keys as another thunderous blow hits the window.
The glass cracks further, making me jump in my chair.
My breath comes in shallow gasps, my chest tight with terror. I find the keys wedged between the seat and center console, but when I try to jam them into the ignition, my shaking hands betray me again.
The key scrapes uselessly against the metal around the keyhole.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please, please, please.”
The next blow is different—a sickening crash followed by the tinkling sound of breaking glass. The passenger window gives way, and cold night air rushes in along with the reaching arm of one of the masked men.
His hand fumbles for the door lock as I shriek in ultimate terror.
The key finally slides into the ignition just as I hear the distinctive click of my door unlocking. I turn the key frantically, the engine grinding but not catching. Panic clogs my throat as the passenger door is yanked open and one of the men starts climbing in, his bulk taking up the entire seat.
“Get out of the fucking car, bitch,” he growls, his voice muffled by the mask but unmistakably threatening.
The engine finally roars to life, but before I can shift into drive, the man lunges across the center console. His gloved hand closes around my throat, making my vision blur at the edges, the harder he squeezes. With his other hand, he reaches past me and pushes open my door.
The second man appears at my open door, his masked face inches from mine. “Out,” he demands, grabbing my arm and yanking hard.
I cling to the steering wheel with both hands, my knuckles white with effort. “No! This is my car! Get out!”
The man inside the car pries my fingers from the wheel one by one while his partner pulls me from the other side. I kick and thrash, landing a solid hit to someone’s shin that earns me a vicious slap across the face. The blow stuns me just long enough for them to drag me halfway out of the car.
“Let me go!” I shriek, my nails clawing at anything I can reach. I’m trying to grab the dashboard, the door frame, or the arm of the man pulling me. “Help! Somebody help me!”
But there’s no one to help me. The parking lot is deserted, the nearest businesses closed and dark.
The man behind me gives a brutal shove. I stumble forward, then fall hard, my shoulder hitting the pavement first with a sickening pop that sends white-hot agony shooting through my entire body.
I scream again, but this time from pain rather than fear. Something is terribly wrong with my shoulder, and it feels like it’s been ripped from its socket, like bones are grinding against each other in ways they shouldn’t. The impact jars my head too, my temple bouncing off the rough asphalt with enough force to make stars explode behind my eyes.
I lie there, stunned and broken, as one of the men jumps into the driver’s seat of my car.
The engine revs loudly, tires squealing as they back out of the parking space. The second man runs around to the passenger side, climbing in just before the car lurches forward.
My car disappears into the night with a final roar of the engine.
I try to push myself up with my good arm, but dizziness washes over me in waves. My shoulder throbs with such intensity that I can hardly think through the pain. Each breath I take sends a fresh pulse of agony radiating outward from the joint.
“Fuck,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Oh god, oh god.”
I’m alone in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night with a dislocated shoulder and possibly a concussion. My car is gone. My phone was in it as well as my wallet. Everything I had left in the world just drove away with those men.
The asphalt is cold and rough against my cheek. I should get up, should find help, but the pain keeps me pinned in place. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in my temples, in the hollow of my throat.
My breath comes in ragged sobs.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell myself, the words escaping between hitched breaths. But I know it’s a lie. Nothing about this situation is fine. I’m injured and alone, without transportation, without a way to call for help. On top of discovering my husband’s affair and leaving my home, I’ve now been violently carjacked. It feels like the universe is determined to strip everything from me in a single night.
