Chapter 8:BMW 335i

"It's a lovely day to learn to drive, don't you think?" said Clara, grinning.

I let out a smile and nodded. Today she was wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, her hair hanging loose over her shoulder.

Clara took my hand as we walked over to the car. I stopped and wondered if this was a dream – a beautiful car and a beautiful girl. And she wants me to drive it; she trusts me behind the wheel. I had never touched a steering wheel before.

"Hey, why are you stopping?" She looked at me, then squeezed my hand. "Don't worry, we'll get through this. Breathe in and out."

She gently squeezed my hand as her face came closer to mine. "What is she doing?" I thought. The fresh, minty sweetness of her breath mingled with the delicate scent of roses.

She moved her lips to my ear and whispered, "When you learn to drive this thing, you can pretty much move out and start your own life." I noticed Clara glancing up, and I followed her gaze. It was my dad, wearing his old shirt with patches that my mom had fixed a few times for him. He stood by the window with his hands in his pocket.

He looked like the dad he always was, filled with hatred. He looked down, and Clara showed him the middle finger.

My dad shook his head and closed the window.

"Okay, first, I am going to drive, and you watch how I do it. Then you'll try, and I'll guide you until you're ready to take it on the open road."

The car had a distinct smell, a mix of new leather, fresh plastic, and clean upholstery. It was a blend of various chemicals from the manufacturing process, creating an inviting and sophisticated atmosphere.

The seats were shiny black leather, and the interior of the BMW 335i exuded a blend of luxury and sportiness. It featured high-quality materials, brushed aluminum or wood trim, and soft-touch surfaces. The cabin was meticulously designed with ergonomic controls, advanced technology, and a driver-focused layout.

If I could, I would jump on top of her right now, but she would probably think I was losing my mind.

"Lovely car we have here," came the voice of three men out of nowhere. They carried weapons. I glanced up at my dad, who had a smirk on his face. Clara stood in front of me as if she was protecting me.

"I'can handle this," I told myself, trying to push her aside, but she wouldn't move.

As the guys approached, their faces close to hers, one of them said, "You're a cute one. We wouldn't want to damage that pretty face of yours now, young lady."

Clara stood tighter against me, ensuring I was out of their way.

"You're extremely protective over your boyfriend, aren't you?" one of them grinned with crooked yellow teeth. Clara looked up and called out, "Mr. George, can you come help us?"

He just stared down at us with no remorse, pretending not to notice.

The men pulled out a gun. "Now listen to me," one said, "you're going to climb in the car with us, and this boy will remain unharmed only if he can run as far as he can and never come back." The tall guy with sleek black hair and smelling of damp clothes approached and rubbed his nose, looking over at me. "Are you still here?" He then pulled out a knife and placed the flat side against Clara's cheek.

"You're one pretty girl," he sniffed her hair. Alarmingly, Clara was calm, collected.

He grabbed the back of her hair, and I reacted out of anger, punching him in the stomach without thinking of the consequences. He grabbed me by the neck, flicked open a knife, and pushed me against the car. My dad stood there, just looking, arms folded, as if he was enjoying every second.

The man who was supposed to protect me was a monster, heartless. How could he just stand there?

"You'll pay for what you've done," his two friends grabbed my arms, holding me in a grip where I couldn't move.

"No, take me instead, hit me, punch me, please don't hurt him," Clara pleaded, anxiously looking around as if expecting someone.

"You're one brave girl," said the man holding the knife. "Bravery doesn't get you anywhere. Your boyfriend will pay for what he did."

"But he doesn't know what he's doing, please just let him go." For the first time, fear appeared on Clara's face throughout this whole event.

I glanced at Clara and couldn't help but think, "Who are you? What am I to you?"Throughout the commotion, I should be fearing what is to come, but all my thoughts were about Clara, her perfect beauty, her eyes, her lips, her skin. If I were not to live through this, at least the last face I saw was Clara's.

"Put him in the car." The next moment, I felt a hard knock on the back of my head. I was walking towards a waterfall, holding Clara's hand. She looked happy, and we were laughing and talking. She made my heart race. I am at peace now; this is where I want to stay.

"Wake up, kid," I heard a voice from a distance, then felt a hard slap. As I opened my eyes, everything was a blur. "Please let him go," I heard Clara's voice again as my vision became clear. I was in an underground tunnel, my feet in dirty, smelly water, with papers scattered around me.

I heard laughter in the distance. As my vision cleared, I realized we were up against far more danger than anticipated; there were at least a dozen guys surrounding us. Clara looked at me, her eyes locking with mine for a moment. The guy I had punched in the stomach grabbed me by my hair and dragged me on the ground.

Then he kicked me in the stomach, and I felt a sharp pain. I wanted to scream "stop" but the words wouldn't come out. Clara ran up to me, shielding my body with hers, holding me tight. One of the guys pulled her by the hair, another grabbed her hand and dragged her away from me as she gripped onto my leg.

"You can stop this," she said, looking at me. "You have the power to stop this," she repeated. The guy then kicked her in the stomach to make her let go of my leg. Clara coughed out blood.

"This wasn't part of the agreement, man," said one of the men. "He said scare them, not hurt them." A gunshot went off, and the man who spoke fell to the ground. My heart was racing. "They're going to kill us," my instinct told me. "Burn the body."Said the shooter as i heard his footsteps coming closer.

The cold metal of the gun pressed against the back of my head, and I inhaled sharply, my breath trembling as I exhaled. This is it. My pulse thundered in my ears, every heartbeat a countdown. I glanced at Clara; she mirrored my position, hands raised, knees pressed into the dirt. Her eyes locked onto mine for a brief, desperate second before she turned her head and closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness closing in around us.