He bent down, seemingly trying to reach under the seat.
After a moment, he straightened up.
âSorry, miss, my arms are too thick.
I canât reach your phone.
Youâll have to get it yourself.
â
Just then, Callieâs phone rang again, likely her dad calling.
She had no choice but to force herself out of the car.
As Callie approached the front of the car, the driver remained in his seat, showing no sign of moving.
She asked him softly, âSir, could you please move a bit?â
The driver retorted mockingly, âMove? Where should I move to? Thereâs plenty of space for you to manage.
â
Unbeknownst to Callie, her delicate and innocent look kindled something dark within the driver.
The driver had a preference for fragile, gentle girls, and Callieâs soft, trembling voice unknowingly excited him.
Callie was unaware of his thoughts.
All she knew was that her phone was still ringing under the seat, possibly her anxious father trying to contact her.
Frightened, Callie wanted nothing more than to fetch her phone and contact her father.
Finding no other way, she crouched down beside the car and reached under the seat, but she couldnât quite grab her phone.
As she hesitated, the driver coldly instructed, âYou need to come inside to get it.
You wonât reach it from out there.
â
âs BunnyBookery Fearful, Callie knew she couldnât enter the car as she would have to kneel uncomfortably close to him.
Even with boundless courage, she wouldnât dare.
Sensing danger from the driver, she murmured, âI⦠Iâd rather wait for my dad where thereâs more light.
â Then, she rose, turning to escape.
Suddenly, her hair was yanked, and the driver pulled her back into the car, cursing, âYou little brat! How dare you defy me when I tell you to come in?â
The pain was sharp, and Callie cried out, âPlease donât do this! My dad is waiting for me.
Pleaseâ¦â
âYouâll never find your dad here.
â The driver laughed menacingly.
âThis isnât the right road.
Youâll never find him here.
But thereâs a daddy right here for you.
Call me daddy, and I wonât hurt you.
â
Tears streamed down Callieâs face as she pleaded, âPlease, youâre committing a crime.
Please, you canât⦠Let me go.
I promise I wonât tell anyone,â she begged the driver desperately.
âCrime?â The driver scoffed.
âA pretty thing like you out so late is practically an invitation.
â He leaned closer, his breath hot against her skin.
âWhether itâs a crime or not, Iâm going to enjoy myself.
Right?â
The driver spoke truthfully about his nearby residence, feeling assured that no one would interrupt his despicable deeds in this secluded area.
Callie, weakened, found her clothes being ripped by the driver as she persisted in pleading.
âPlease, let me go.
I wonât say anything, I swearâ¦â
âRelease you? Not until Iâve had my fill,â the driver declared, securing the car doors and reclining the seat for easier access.
Tears streaked Callieâs face, her expression filled with despair.
With no mercy, the driver grabbed her firmly and tore off her clothes.
He could see all of Callieâs body.
His eyes glinted with predatory intent as he observed Callieâs soft, delicate skin, knowing she would be easy prey.
Anticipating the thrill, the driver rubbed his hands together, addressing her, âLittle girl, just embrace your fate.
No one will hear you scream out here.
I could have drugged you, but I prefer you conscious.
Itâs more exhilaratingâ¦â
This driver had a history of offenses, concealing sedatives in his car, ever-ready to strike the perfect victim.
No legitimate taxi driver, he toiled in a factory, driving this old, beat-up car around the city post-shift.