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highway to hell | pt one
“See ya later Luce,” her voice was soft as she called over her shoulder, waving goodbye to her remaining coworkers at the Chick-n-Strip before heading out the back door, desperate for an escape. Despite loving her job, today was hell - the crowd was less than enthusiastic all day, her private dances weren’t tipped as well as they normally would have been, and the food was awful. Lennon felt drained, so many hours spent on her feet left her body aching, and all she wanted to do was go home, pour herself a glass of wine, and snuggle with Lilah for a few hours to ease the tension she held in her shoulders. The short walk from the building to her car seemed to drag more than usual, though maybe it was just fatigue seeping through her bones. Sighing, her hand reached into her purse, pulling out her keys as she reached the vehicle.
“Lennon,” a male voice called out to her, startling her enough for her to fumble with the keychain.
Her eyes tried to focus on the silhouette on the opposite side of the car, but his features were masked by a bandana. Admittedly, she was nervous. Anxiety ran through her core, her voice shaky as she replied. “Hi.. I’m off the clock now, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t unlike men to hang around for the dancers, hoping that just maybe they’d get a chance to go home with one of them. But Lennon was always weary - the men in Limbo weren’t exactly… pleasant.
The man continued to approach her car, her keys still fumbling in her hand until she dropped them, cursing herself under her breath as she reached down to grab them. This allowed him enough time to run around the car - closing the space between them, his torso now pressed to Lennon’s back as she stood. “Lennon,” he said again, his breath hot on her neck. She would remember that voice from anywhere - Peter. Peter was a regular at the Chick-n-Strip, one that frequently bought dances from Lennon. He was far from charming, often smelled like cigarettes and puke mixed with an atrocious amount of b.o, and got a little too handsy more often than not, his fingers always seeming to ‘slip’ into the seams of Lennon’s bikini bottoms. Lennon had requested that he no longer purchase dances from her due to how uncomfortable he made her feel, and when he found out he was less than thrilled. He had been stalking her ever since.
Lennon’s voice seemed to fail her as something pressed to her back, her anxiety heightened when she realized it was a gun. She had been in enough situations to know the size and shape of the barrel, and suddenly a lump was in her throat. She tried to find words, tried to scream - but nothing happened.
“Lennon. I’m going to reach down and grab your keys from your hand to unlock your door. When I do, get inside. I’m going to get in the back behind you. Understood?”
“Peter, I -”
“UNDERSTOOD?” His voice was raised, gun pushing harder against her back. A warning.
“U-understood.” In that moment, Lennon felt her life flash in front of her. Lilah’s sweet face. Harley’s slobbery kisses. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to them yet. She jumped as the man reached down and touched her hand, his fingers lingering a little too long before he finally took the keys from her. Her eyes followed his movements, watching as he unlocked the car. She half considered getting in and taking off right away, but she didn’t want to risk it - not with a gun pointed to her back.
“I’m going to open the door. I want you to get in, and start the ignition.”
Lennon allowed him space to move around her, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. When the door was open, she did what she was told, getting into the front seat, sticking the key in the ignition. Peter was quick enough to close the door and get in behind her, the gun now pointed at her side, low enough for it to be hidden while she drove around. “P-Peter.. Please don’t do this.. I-”
“Lennon, shut up. Put the car in drive, and head north. Make a right at the light.” His voice was stern, and as much as Lennon wanted to put up a fight.. She couldn’t. Hesitantly, Lennon obliged, taking her foot off the brake. The car started moving, slowly, until the gun pressed into her side. “I really don’t want to use this, please just follow directions.”
“I-.. I’m sorry,” her voice was quiet, foot pressing down on the accelerator. “Where next?”
“Drive towards Rapacity. You’ll pull off the highway when I tell you to.”
They sat in silence for the rest of the ride - Peter’s gun still pressed to Lennon’s side, his body hovering the seat behind her. She wanted to slam on the brakes, send him flying through the windshield - but she couldn’t risk a misfire. The lump in her throat had multiplied, and her heart raced a mile a minute, and she knew that with every mile driven further from Limbo and civilization, was a mile closer to death. And yet, she still drove - praying to whatever God she could that she would make it out alive.
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