It was a sleek black car, hauntingly beautiful and aerodynamic. It bespoke a cold arrogance and power, a mirror of its owner. It's matte black color a reflection of my mood.
“Get your things, we’re leaving,” he had said as he did up his trouser.
I remained as I was, looking at, but not really seeing him.
“Did you not hear me?” He asked.
“I did”
“Then why are you still there, get up, get dressed and let’s leave.”
“I’m not going.”
“What was that?” he asked, c*****g his head slightly.
“I said I’m not going,” I said louder.
“I heard you the first time, I just wanted to make sure you knew what you said. Let me explain it to you again. I own you, it’s as simple as that. You have no say whatsoever, you either leave here willingly with me, or in cuffs with the police. Choose.”
And that
