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Gretel looks at her in silence until she manages to calm down a bit.
"Sorry," instinct makes her place her hand on Abigail's on the gear lever, "I don't regret meeting you, but all of this is overwhelming. What are we going to do? We can't go around with a stolen car and that..."
Gretel points backward, unable to say the words.
"You're right; we have to get rid of him and the car."
"Do you want us to kill him?" Gretel exclaims, raising her voice.
"Don't shout, damn it," Abigail reproaches, turning up the radio to blend their conversation with the announcer's. "I don't want to kill him. What do you take me for?" Abigail gets offended again, maintaining her composure despite the situation, surprising Gretel even more.
"Okay, I'm sorry," she apologizes again. "Do you have any ideas?"
"We have to do things right, Gretel," Abigail gives her a quick glance and then focuses on the road again. "We can't let them catch us with him or the car. We'll be accused of theft, and maybe rightfully so, but not of the latter."
Gretel freezes, contemplating the repercussions if they get caught. She envisions the bewildered expressions on Pol's and her family's faces, and another wave of nervous laughter engulfs her. Abigail gazes at her, unable to suppress her own laughter.
"I need to calm down, damn it," Gretel mutters to herself, mimicking deep breaths as seen in movies.
"You're doing it backward," Abigail corrects her, "inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth."
"Ah..." Gretel responds, and they both burst into laughter again until they tire.
"Alright, we need to decide what to do," Abigail sighs.
"Okay, okay," Gretel waves her hands as if dispelling evil spirits. "Let's focus. Whatever it is, we need to take advantage of the darkness, right?"
"True," Abigail replies with a proud smile.
"We could leave him in some open area not far from a gas station or a town," Gretel suggests, calmer than she's been all night.
"I agree, leave him there, and then we should buy gasoline and torch the car."
"Poor owner," Gretel murmurs, "I hope he has insurance."
"Yeah, me too..." Abigail responds, becoming absorbed in thought.
"What's wrong?" Gretel asks.
"We haven't asked the most important question," Abigail says, as if suddenly struck by clarity.
"And what's that?"
"What is that man doing there? It's clear he's been kidnapped, a victim, and here we are, driving around with him in the damn trunk of a car. He must have a family, people worried about him. Those bastards were probably going to ask for a ransom."
Gretel feels her heart pounding like a jackhammer. Abigail is right.
"We need to call the police," she admits in a whisper.
Abigail takes the first exit and stops the car at the entrance of a small town that, at two in the morning, remains eerily quiet.
"What we need to do is check if he's okay and ask him what happened. We can't show up at the police station with him in the trunk; they'll handcuff us before asking what happened," Abigail says, feeling her head about to explode from overthinking.
"Okay."
Both women appear resolute, though deep down, fear lingers, casting doubt on their ability to make the right decision. They exit the car and cautiously open the rear hatch. Relief washes over them as they realize the man appears relatively unharmed, just a bit disoriented. Leaving the trunk ajar, they shield their faces with jackets.
"Hey, are you okay?" Abigail inquires.
