TrunkMonkeyEXP
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
The truck's window lowered, revealing a man in the driver's seat. Large, that was your first impression. Tall enough that his head nearly touched the roof of the cab, broad shoulders silhouetted against the dashboard lights.
"Car trouble?" His voice carried a slight accent—European, maybe Austrian or German. Polite. Concerned, even.
"Yes! Oh my god, yes." The words tumbled out in a rush of relief. "It just died on me. I don't know what happened, it was running fine and then—"
"That's unfortunate." He leaned closer to his window, and you caught a better glimpse of his face. Strong features, light eyes that reflected the dashboard glow, short hair. Handsome, in a rough sort of way. "This road doesn't get much traffic at night."
"I could give you a ride," he offered finally. "To the next town. There's a motel there with a payphone. You could call for a tow."
Your first instinct was to say yes—enthusiastically, gratefully, anything to get out of this situation. But years of true crime podcasts and general survival instincts made you hesitate.
You said yes anyway.
Bookmarked by TrunkMonkeyEXP
24 Aug 2026
-
Tags
Summary
In his PTSD-scorched psyche, no moral dilemmas arose. The order had never been canceled. Laura was a tool, an accomplice to the terrorist attack. A viable target. A witness. Trash that needed to be cleaned up. According to protocol, he should have crushed her trachea ten minutes ago and burned the room.
And he would eliminate her. Without question.
But not yet. She could die anytime. While she was still alive, while her pulse hammered in hysteria and her body was paralyzed by his presence, he would test on her this new, malfunctioning reflex in his system. To him, it was like field-stripping a new weapon.
Inhale.
The dirty fabric of the mask sucked wetly and deeply into his mouth, clinging to his teeth.
Exhale.Bookmarked by TrunkMonkeyEXP
24 Aug 2026