Trapped by a Dangerous Man Read Online Free

space in anticipation of a big-box store shopping trip.
    It had been years since I’d had a claustrophobia-induced panic attack, but the tightening in my chest was exactly how I remembered it, except worse. I’d learned a technique to cope with this, and Mrs. Rico’s kind face appeared. Breathe low in your stomach. Tell the panic who’s boss. Despite how it feels, you are safe.
    The hyperventilation slowed to an ordinary, run-of-the-mill fast breathing, and I nodded. “Exactly like that, Audrey,” I said, channeling Mrs. Rico.
    My hand stilled on the door handle. It was surely warmer in the car than outside, and at least I was dry…
    But it might be twelve hours before someone got around to plowing this road. Or it could be a week, and they’d find me, suffocated—
    “I am bigger than my fear,” I chanted. I wrung my white-knuckled hands around the cold steering wheel, forcing myself to take deep, even breaths. Making a decision to get out of the car because I was scared was about the dumbest thing I could do, but I couldn’t simultaneously weigh my options while keeping the dread at bay.
    I’d driven about thirty-five minutes off the freeway. Of course, I didn’t know when I’d lost phone reception, but maybe I could walk within range of a tower. I didn’t want to be one of those people who died twenty feet from salvation.  
    “The road is right there,” I told myself, but all the while, the car continued to squeeze in, the darkness creeping closer.
    “Action, Audrey,” Mrs. Rico had said. “Go about your life and the panic might realize it’s unwanted.”
    Ok. And my action was going to be to get out of the car, but not in a screaming, frightened mess. I was going to do it like a survivor.  
    After wrapping my feet in some sales circulars that were piled up on the back seat, I tied my boots tighter, pulled down my hat, which I knew was woefully thin, zipped up my coat the last millimeter, checked that the phone was in my coat pocket, and tried to open the door. It didn’t budge.  
    I flipped the lock down, then up again. The door refused to yield.
    Mrs. Rico’s voice disappeared. I needed to get the hell out—
    Suddenly I couldn’t get enough air. I slammed my shoulder into the door, but my fingers slid off the handle at the last second. I tried again, my entire body shaking, cold sweat drenching me from head to newspaper-covered toe.
    The door gave. Just a few inches, but enough for fresh air to rush in. I gulped it, barely waiting to exhale before sucking back another lungful. I knew I was going to hyperventilate and faint if I didn’t slow down; already my fingertips and lips were getting numb from the lack of oxygen, and pinpricks of imaginary light dotted my field of vision.
    Through a haze, I realized that the overhead light had come on, that snow was piled up high outside the door. I pushed harder, knowing all that snow must be heavy. My rocking made the car slide back more, but miracle of miracles, I was able to shove the door open and stumble into the open, fresh world.  
    The car rested in a shallow culvert ditch. I had slid off of a short bridge that seemed designed to freeze over and send an innocent motorist to her embarrassingly pathetic death.  
    I struggled up the few feet to the road, or what I assumed was the road. The snow was so heavy that if there was a house nearby, it was invisible. I bent over, my arms stiff and propped on my thighs while I tried to slow my breathing. Once the little spots of light disappeared, I straightened and marched back the way I’d come, my hand over my mouth to stop the cruel wind from suffocating me, following the skinny tracks left by my car.  
    Tracks which were, to my dismay, quickly disappearing.
    ~~~
    My father always complained that I was too stubborn. When he was pleased with me, it was my greatest quality, and he spoke of it like other parents might boast about their precocious violin prodigies. “My Audrey stayed up all night in