Linda curses under her breath as another blinding flash of lightning illuminates the night sky, followed immediately by a rumbling burst of thunder. Thick sheets of rain pound her car, the drum-like staccato adding to her growing headache. Her engine has died, leaving her stranded two miles from home, and she was lucky to have been able to coast to a stop in this empty parking lot. She peers out through the window, able to see a pay phone only a little way from the car. She curses again, knowing that even with such a short distance between her and the phone, she is destined to get soaked.
"Of all the times to forgot my cell," She shakes her head in disgust as her words trail off into mumbling complaints.
Linda shoves open the car door and hops out, pausing only to kick the door shut before dashing to the pay phone. She jams her coins into the phone, stabs the numbers with a manicured nail, and begins cursing again as she listens to the message telling her: "The person you are trying to reach is unavailable at the moment. Please try ag-."
She slams the phone down, cutting off the automated message. She shivers as the cold rain sends chills down her spine, fouling her mood even more. She stalks back to the car, pissed off now and really needing a cigarette.
As Linda reaches the car, her hand moving to open the door, she feels a pressure against the middle of her back, a half second before she is slammed hard against the side of her car. Her breath explodes out from her lungs as the side mirror punches into her stomach. A hand tangles in her hair, pushing her forward and down, forcing her to bend over the hood of the car. She then feels a body pressing against her and hot breath on her ear, followed then by a deep, gruff voice speaking.
"You even think about screaming, bitch, and I will cut your fucking throat.." These words are accompanied by the sharp point of, what she assumes is a knife poking into the side of her neck.
Linda whimpers in pain as her hair is yanked roughly, pulling her up from the hood. The knives point remains against her throat, but she feels his other hand drifting over the front of her body. He squeezes each of her breasts, his touch painful and clumsy as he cruelly twists her nipples through the material of her blouse.
His hand slides down her stomach and moves between her legs, cupping her crotch through her wet jeans. She is surprised by this and automatically slaps at his hand. He laughs at her, before pinching her hard on her inner thigh. She gasps again in pain, while at the same time scraping her foot down his shin. He curses then before growling and again slamming her head down against the hood of the car.