Naked under a black plastic bag she had bitten three holes into then pushed her head and arms through, Annie recognized it was a car, that the finger she held in her hand would start it and that getting out of there was critical, if she wasn’t to be sold at the auction later that day.
The finger started the engine. Her short legs barely reached the pedals, forcing herself on first one, nothing, another, movement. The car shot off along the road and laid over the steering wheel she hung on for her life, for surely it was so.
The finger started the engine. Her short legs barely reached the pedals, forcing herself on first one, nothing, another, movement. The car shot off along the road and laid over the steering wheel she hung on for her life, for surely it was so.
