Theodore.

Fuck. There I was, in a dangerous situation, as per usual. Hedonism and responsibilities do not go hand in hand, as was being proven to me for the millionth time.

Tipsy, and a flat tire. 2 flat tires actually, with only one available spare, which of course, as the prissy suburban girl that I am, I had no idea how to put on. I had seemingly managed to run over someone’s nail collection that was left on the side of the road. I hope they didn’t want it back.

I took in the situation. It was dusk, on an empty highway, because no one else parties at 5 o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday. I had to be home soon or my dad would know I wasn’t at work, at the job I quit months ago but kept the outfit for a convenient excuse to leave the house for hours a day. It was a nice job really, but what is a teenage alcoholic supposed to do? Continue being a waitress? I don’t think so, and you don’t think so either. So I quit, and rationalized it by repeating the words “I’m only young once” and “I got to live life.”

You see where that got me.

No money for a tow, the clock was ticking for the time left of my “shift”.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is a classic, right? Skinny blonde bitch stranded helplessly on the road. I knew, however, that this wasn’t going to end in a classic romantic kiss. The only thing this would lead to was a shitload of trouble. My dad was going to find out all the lies, search my room, put me in jail, oh my god oh my god. I was thinking about how terrible the showers in juvie will be when the hairs on my neck stood up at full attention.

A small, brownish tan Volkswagen vehicle was pulled up next to me. Like, right next to me. I instinctively pressed the lock down on my door. I groped the pocket knife in my, well, pocket. You know, the obligatory going-to-a-rave pocket knife. I squinted my eyes to see who was driving, expecting to see some ogre slightly resembling a man (mossy bald head, 2 teeth, hot breath) but, to my surprise, I saw a tan Ken doll staring back at me. Taken aback, I stared at him for a second or two, before flashing him my freshly whitened teeth. He flashed his back.

At this point I’m conflicted. Part of me is thinking, Emily, your being so stupid, this is how people get turned into coats, but then the teenage girl side of me was thinking that pretty people dont do evil things, they are always nice and friendly. Spread a little gossip and talk a little trash, maybe, but not full on kill anyone, let alone abduct people.

So, for the thrill of it (like always), I crank my window down.

“Hey.”

“Hey, what are ya doing parked all sideways on the side of the road?”

“Well, to be honest with you, I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

“Predicament, huh? Big word for a pretty girl like you.”

A feeling split between “roll up your window” and “he thinks I’m pretty.”

“I like to think I’m pretty intelligent.”

“But stuck on the side of the road?”

He was witty too. Cute, and therefore, dangerous.

“You got me there. Some asshole left a bunch of nails in the middle of the damn road, and now I’m gonna be late home.”

“Too dainty to change a flat?”

“Two flats, one spare.”

He put his hand on his scruff and stroked his sculpted chin accordingly.

“Yup, that’s quite the predicament.”

The clouds had hung low all day, threatening to fuck up my evening, and they weren’t bluffing. It started pouring, as if on cue. I started to crank my window up, but, as you could guess, the damn thing wouldn’t go up. I tried lifting it with my hands and everything, but the thing wouldn’t move. The rain started pouring in, onto my sweater and prop work pants, and I let out a shout of frustration and smacked my hand on the dash. “Dammit!”

“There’s a seat over here you know”

I had almost forgotten he was there; he felt like a fever dream. I was trying to decide if this moment was serendipitous or the opposite thereof.

“I don’t know.. This is how all horror shows start, ya know.”

“I understand, I hope you find a ride back, miss. Have a good day.”

He put his hand on the shifter.

“Wait!”

He put the car back in park and smiled at me inquisitively.

“Miss me already?”

He was good. Mid 20’s and bookish, but smug in an attractive way. I considered my options. Stay here in my car that was slowly becoming a rain collection bucket, or get in the warm Volkswagen with a handsome stranger, who could then drive me home. I could get there on time, and avoid so much trouble. And, the ultimate deciding factor; he was very, very pretty.

So what did I do? You already know.

He slid back into the drivers side to make room for me, and the leather was warm. I slammed the door shut and tried to pretend he was an ugly old man. I couldn’t let this guy woo me, as he was clearly used to. I just had to get home, and get there safely.

Things didn’t go as planned, or I wouldn’t be writing this, of course.

“It’s about 10 minutes away.”

“Your house?”

“Yes, thank you, by the way.”

“Do you live by yourself?”

Red flag? No, my mind reasoned, just small talk.

“No actually, with my dad and my little sister.”

“Staying at home for college or what?”

“No, I’m actually not in college.”

“Not going?”

“I am, just after I get through highschool.”

“Highschool. You’re still a schoolgirl? I’ll be damned, I would have bet you were 20, with a body like that.”

I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have got in.

“Thanks. It’s a right at the next stop.”

I kept the words short and cold, uninviting. Charismatic as he seemed at first, he was getting way too creepy, way too fast. I hunched forward and kept my head perfectly straight.

“I mean, really. You’re gorgeous. I love your hair. It’s so long.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s your name anyways, school girl?”

He had a smile on that once seemed inviting, that now seemed greedy.

“Emily Hankfeld. What’s yours?”

I thought maybe I could steer this conversation in a better direction.

“Theodore Bundy. But everyone calls me Ted.”

At this point, he was looking at me more than seemed safe for driving in the rain. I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes moving up and down, up and down, up and down.

“It’s this right up here”

He didn’t turn..

“Ted, that was the turn. You missed it.”

He pretended not to hear me.

“You know, most of the time when a handsome man picks up a stupid cunt off the side of the road, he gets more than a thanks.”

My stomach dropped. My heart stopped. He took a left onto a long gravel driveway. The only sounds that escaped my mouth were the sharp inhales and exhales I was trying to control.

“So beautiful; such a shame you’re so young.”

A glimmer of hope. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he had morals. Maybe.

“Too bad this is where it ends.”

As the car rolled to a stop, the adrenaline took full control. My mind stayed frozen while arms tried to open the door. Locked from the inside. He planned it. Hands smacking on the glass, my mouth screaming words I couldn’t hear.

“I would say I’m sorry, Emily, but I’m trying to work on my compulsive lying.”

I remember the pain in my skull as he pulled my head back by my hair. My fingers remembered the knife in my pocket.

“Don’t pull any funny business, Emily."

I screamed against his calloused hand, and he smiled. My legs kicked the air and his car.

“Careful bitch, yout gonna break the glass.”

I was running out of air, out of energy, and out of hope. All I could do was look into his eyes and hope there was some empathy in there.

There wasn’t.

I was suffocating, and he enjoyed it.

“This is your own fault you know. Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to get into cars with strangers?”

As I was giving up, fate decided not to. Someone was driving down the driveway. This caused a high level of anger from Ted, which was demonstrated by a slap in the face.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He sighed and pushed me to the side. He put the car in reverse and pressed on the gas.

Now, I’d never hurt anyone if I didn’t have to. I cried when I accidentally stepped on our cat. I need you to understand this isnt in my nature.

He grabbed the steering wheel and I grabbed the knife.

A 3 inch blade in the jugular isn’t good news for anyone. I still remember the look in his eyes. It was clear what he was thinking:

“You bitch.”

I sat there, killer’s blood spurting onto me, and his body slumped forward unto the steering wheel. I was in shock. I still am. You can imagine the old man’s face whose driveway I’d just killed someone in when he finally made his way to us. He turned right back around. I would too.

The police were impressed by me, but to this day I wonder if he would’ve actually gone through with it. The savage look in his eyes and the tightness of his fist said yes, but who knows, maybe he was a good person. Or maybe he was going to become a world renown serial killer.

That’s giving myself too much credit, I think.