Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

in the car was with my sister, but she hardly ever had to
chauffeur me anywhere, so those times were rare.
Turning my face toward the window, I zoned out, thinking
about everything that had happened the past hour. Dancing for
him, touching him, the way he was patient with me but also
pushed me, to see what I was made of.
And how I wasn’t entirely sure if it was for my benefit or
for his pleasure.
His body moved next to me, shifting gears and putting
pedal to the metal, but every once in a while, I felt his eyes on
me. My heartbeat started to pick up pace, and I was glad I
couldn’t see him with my eyes. GGlad I would never be able to
see him.
He would be the picture he was in my head. A faceless boy
with dark hair and fire in his eyes, just how I wanted it.
Forever.
We drove into town—he started curbing his speed, and I
think we stopped at a traffic light—and after a few turns, he
pulled the car to a stop and turned off the engine.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, taking his keys. “Keep your
hood up.”
I didn’t respond, and he didn’t wait for confirmation that
I’d heard. Opening the car door, he climbed out, slammed the
door shut, and I heard the click of the lock right before
everything went silent. Of course, I could still open my door. I
could get out. He was keeping anyone else from getting in.
I felt a little traffic farther away, and I could hear the
subterranean droning of music coming from the building to my
left, but other than that, the village was quiet. I had no idea
what time it was.
Why did I need to cover myself? Maybe he was planning
on slicing and dicing me, after all, and didn’t want witnesses
tracking my whereabouts after the fact?
I almost laughed. I was pretty sure he had no malicious
intent at this point.