Hitchhiking into Hell - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading Hitchhiking into Hell, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of Hitchhiking into Hell.
"Uncle Hank, I'm over here."
The men erupted in crude laughter, their voices thick with mockery.
"Damn, Hank," one of them sneered, slapping his knee. "You said your boy here was green, but hell—kid's got moves! Picking a spot for a little outdoor action? That's bold."
Hank's face darkened. He stormed over and cracked his palm across Daniel's cheek with a sharp smack.
"You little shit," he snarled. "What part of 'hands off' didn't sink into that thick skull of yours? My turn comes first. Always."
Daniel staggered back, clutching his face, his bravado crumbling. He dropped my hand like it burned him.
"S-sorry, Uncle Hank," he stammered. "I—I just got carried away. Won't happen again."
Hank drove his boot into Daniel's ribs, sending him sprawling.
"Beat it," he barked. "Go help with the damn tow truck. And there won't be a next time—you're done. If your folks weren't from my village, I'd have kicked your sorry ass to the curb months ago."
With that, he yanked me toward the tent like a hawk seizing prey.
"Stay put," he growled, shoving me inside. "We'll settle up later."
Outside, the men laughed as they hooked steel cables to the truck, their voices carrying over the clank of metal.
"Hey, Hank," one called, wiping grease off his hands. "What's a roadside rescue like this run you, huh? We're doing you a solid. Better make it worth our while."
Hank smirked. "Name your poison. Steak and whiskey in town—my treat."
A chorus of curses erupted.
"Cheap bastard!" another man spat. "You think we're here for a damn dinner date? Hand over the girl. Let's all have some fun."
"Yeah," a third voice jeered. "This bitch called me a toad earlier. Well, guess what? This toad's hungry."
Their words sent me into a frenzy of sobs.
Then it hit me—Vanessa's promise. A patrol car nearby. Signal for help.
My last lifeline.
But every call to her failed. The group chat? Silent. Messages vanished like smoke.
They'd left me.
Trembling, I dialed the only person left.
My husband answered instantly.
"Evelyn?" His voice was sharp with alarm. "Where are you? What's wrong?"
I choked on my tears.
"Please… save me. I'm at—"
The men erupted in crude laughter, their voices thick with mockery.
"Damn, Hank," one of them sneered, slapping his knee. "You said your boy here was green, but hell—kid's got moves! Picking a spot for a little outdoor action? That's bold."
Hank's face darkened. He stormed over and cracked his palm across Daniel's cheek with a sharp smack.
"You little shit," he snarled. "What part of 'hands off' didn't sink into that thick skull of yours? My turn comes first. Always."
Daniel staggered back, clutching his face, his bravado crumbling. He dropped my hand like it burned him.
"S-sorry, Uncle Hank," he stammered. "I—I just got carried away. Won't happen again."
Hank drove his boot into Daniel's ribs, sending him sprawling.
"Beat it," he barked. "Go help with the damn tow truck. And there won't be a next time—you're done. If your folks weren't from my village, I'd have kicked your sorry ass to the curb months ago."
With that, he yanked me toward the tent like a hawk seizing prey.
"Stay put," he growled, shoving me inside. "We'll settle up later."
Outside, the men laughed as they hooked steel cables to the truck, their voices carrying over the clank of metal.
"Hey, Hank," one called, wiping grease off his hands. "What's a roadside rescue like this run you, huh? We're doing you a solid. Better make it worth our while."
Hank smirked. "Name your poison. Steak and whiskey in town—my treat."
A chorus of curses erupted.
"Cheap bastard!" another man spat. "You think we're here for a damn dinner date? Hand over the girl. Let's all have some fun."
"Yeah," a third voice jeered. "This bitch called me a toad earlier. Well, guess what? This toad's hungry."
Their words sent me into a frenzy of sobs.
Then it hit me—Vanessa's promise. A patrol car nearby. Signal for help.
My last lifeline.
But every call to her failed. The group chat? Silent. Messages vanished like smoke.
They'd left me.
Trembling, I dialed the only person left.
My husband answered instantly.
"Evelyn?" His voice was sharp with alarm. "Where are you? What's wrong?"
I choked on my tears.
"Please… save me. I'm at—"
End of Hitchhiking into Hell Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to Hitchhiking into Hell book page.