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My panic level spiked off the charts. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Do you have your seatbelt on?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Good. Hang on tight.”

“What the hell are you – ”

Without warning, a car slammed into us.

It hit the driver’s side, the back half of the car. No headlights at all, no screeching tires – just a hard, vicious impact.

I screamed as my body whipped around like a ragdoll. I heard the crunch of metal, the shattering of glass – even felt pieces of it spray my body like gravel.

The car spun 180 degrees and stopped in the road. I sat there, dazed, my head hanging down over my seatbelt shoulder strap.

Suddenly my door opened.

I looked up, my vision blurred, my brain confused.

“Nighty-night,” a man’s voice said.

A wet handkerchief smelling of sickly sweet chemicals clamped over my nose and mouth.

I screamed and thrashed, but he was too strong.

Within seconds, everything went black.

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