It was dark

I was cold

I was running away

I was trying to be brave

But some things they don't teach in highschool

I was walking along

The side of the road

What's this? A truck.

Do you think he'll stop?

Give me a ride

This poor little girl

With no place to go

The lights flash past me

No luck.

It's dark again

And I'm cold.

And I'm getting hungry

I forgot to bring food

They didn't teach me that in Highschool.

To bring food when you're running away.

I have a little money

But there aren't any restaurants

Out here

In the cold

In the middle of nowhere

Another car

Will he stop?

He looks like a nice guy

Pick up a poor cold little girl

He's stopping

Thank god.

Thank god.

I climb in to his car

It's warm and light

He looks like a nice guy

But appearances can be deceiving.

They don't teach you about appearances.

Not in highschool.

He asks me where I'm going

I tell him I don't care.

Just get me out of here, I think

But I don't say that

I was raised to be polite.

I buckle my seatbelt

The rain pounds the windshield.

But I'm warm

And I'm away from my dad

That's all that matters.

I ask him where he's from

He doesn't answer me.

Hm. How strange.

I realize he's wearing sunglasses

No one ever told me

Beware of men who wear sunglasses at night

They don't teach you that in highschool.

So, I ask him if he has any food.

Yes? How wonderful.

In the backseat. Okay.

In the brown paper bag?

There's something else in there too

I wonder what it is

But I don't ask

I was raised to be polite

I thank him for the sandwich I find

And eat hungrily.

I haven't had food in 2 days.

I lick my fingers clean.

I wonder if there's more

But I don't ask.

I catch him glancing at me

Through those dark sunglasses

He wants me to get something out of the back seat.

The brown paper bag.

I hand it to him carefully, so he doesn't drop it.

He removes it.

A gun.

How interesting this night is.

I start to think of escape.

But we're going about 80 now.

I can't get out.

He points the gun at me.

I beg. It's the only thing I can think of.

They don't teach you that in highschool.

How to beg for your life at gunpoint.

He stops the car. It takes forever.

I open the door to get out, but my seatbelt holds me

I'm going to be killed because of a damn seatbelt.

He orders me to strip.

No. I say. No.

I'd rather die, you pervert.

And so I do.

I don't even hear the gun go off.

They don't teach you how to die.

Not in highschool anyway.

I bleed to death as he rolls my body out of his car.

I'm already gone though.

Death can be a depressing date.

They don't teach you to go along with men with guns.

They don't tell you to strip for them.

Probably because they'll just kill you anyway.

But why didn't I learn that in highschool?