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<\/p>\nSounds came.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The steady ping of rain drumming against steel.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
The muted whoosh of wind. The high whine of rubber\u00a0 kissing asphalt.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was moving.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
Why am I moving?\u00a0<\/p>\n
Air clawed up my throat and slid back down again\u2014slowly,\u00a0 painfully\u2014my lungs pulling harder than my esophagus would\u00a0 allow, my chest rising and falling in uneven shifts. I couldn\u2019t breathe. I should be able to\u2014\u00a0<\/p>\n
UNDERWRITTEN BY<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Explore the SunLit archives at\u00a0coloradosun.com\/sunlit<\/a>.<\/p>\n My eyelids snapped open to darkness. Pure black. I tried to\u00a0 scream and couldn\u2019t. My voice was gone, lost in my burning throat.\u00a0 Another sound came instead\u2014this one closer, directly overhead.\u00a0 Clack. Clack. Clack.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n I raised my hands and brushed a loose rod, then pushed past it and felt cool metal press against my palm. I followed it lower, the\u00a0 metal curving behind my head until it terminated in a rubber seal. A car, I thought. I\u2019m in a trunk.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n Oh, God \u2026\u00a0<\/p>\n Oh, fuck.\u00a0<\/p>\n It\u2019s why my knees were jammed in a fetal position, why a rough\u00a0 pad of carpet burned against my cheek and scratched my neck. A\u00a0 shot of cold panic swam down my spine. Time stuttered, and I\u00a0 wheezed for oxygen. It felt like I was breathing through a straw. I\u00a0 was going to pass out if I didn\u2019t get it together and fast.\u00a0<\/p>\n Focus, Olivia. Stay calm.\u00a0<\/p>\n And then: He thinks I\u2019m dead.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n It\u2019s why my hands weren\u2019t bound, why my mouth wasn\u2019t\u00a0 gagged. It\u2019s why my ankles weren\u2019t slung in an interstate of knots.\u00a0 The man who\u2019d done this to me thought I was dead. I could still\u00a0 feel his fingers squeezing, digging into my neck, could still hear his\u00a0 voice burning hot in my ear.\u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cIf You Lie\u201d <\/p>\n >> READ AN INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR<\/a><\/p>\n Where to find it:<\/p>\n SunLit present new excerpts from some of the best Colorado authors that not only spin engaging narratives but also illuminate who we are as a community. Read more.<\/a><\/p>\n Fucking die, already!\u00a0<\/p>\n Those words pouring over me in a shower of sour breath. Clack. C-Clack. Clack.\u00a0<\/p>\n Think, Olivia! You have to think!\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n I slowed my breathing and forced my mind to calm. There had\u00a0 to be a way to open the trunk or signal another car. A wire to rip\u00a0 free from the brake lights or a latch to pop. Didn\u2019t all the newer\u00a0 cars have those specifically for situations like this? For women\u00a0who, like me, simply disappeared?\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n And I would disappear if I didn\u2019t find a way to get out.\u00a0 My heart sloshed in my chest, and I rolled to my right, toward\u00a0 the sidewall of the trunk, and extended an arm. My fingers brushed\u00a0 over objects I recognized. Jumper cables, and a can of gas. Coiled\u00a0 rope and boxes. A hard plastic case. Duct tape. Nothing else.<\/p>\n Jesus, no latch.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n I tried the other side, muttering a prayer as my hands crawled\u00a0 through a graveyard of clinking bottles, my fingers scraping over\u00a0the dry brush of cardboard and through the crinkle of plastic\u00a0 sacks. Dust tickled the back of my nose, and I nearly unleashed a\u00a0 sneeze before I bit it off. Don\u2019t! He\u2019ll hear you. Then I tried again,\u00a0moving slower this time, feeling for what had to be there.\u00a0<\/p>\n And it was\u2014nestled a few inches above the floor of the trunk. A trunk release. A lever to pull.\u00a0<\/p>\n Reality wobbled. My heart fluttered and crashed.\u00a0<\/p>\n \ud83c\udfa7 Listen here!<\/p>\n Go deeper into this story in this episode of The Daily Sun-Up podcast. <\/p>\n Subscribe: Apple<\/a> | Spotify<\/a> | RSS<\/a><\/p>\n Work, I thought. Please, God, work.\u00a0<\/p>\n I pulled.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n There came a click, and the world exploded into a fireball of\u00a0 light. A gray sky moved above me, swollen with thunderheads,\u00a0trees sweeping past on either side. Headlights coasted behind the\u00a0car in a sea of rushing metal. Cold rain lashed against my neck. I\u00a0 forced myself upright, and the brakes slammed and sent me hurtling backward as the car screeched to a stop.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n Move! Move! Move!\u00a0<\/p>\n I scrambled from the trunk.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n One foot connected with the ground. The other slipped. I\u00a0crashed to the road, and the sound of rain filled my ears along with\u00a0the heavy thunk of a door opening. Two boots hit asphalt. His boots.\u00a0<\/p>\n Air scabbed over my lips. The world swam.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n Go! I pushed myself upright\u2014and I ran. Across the white line\u00a0on the shoulder of the road and into traffic with brakes shrieking\u00a0all around me. Horns tearing past. Rain pelting my face. Wind\u00a0hissing in my ears. Behind me came a full-throat roar.\u00a0\u201cStop, you fucking bitch!\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n My lungs burned for air, everything smearing to a blur.\u00a0\u201cI said, stop!\u201d Louder this time. Closer.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n But I didn\u2019t stop, couldn\u2019t stop. I kept running\u2014pushing\u00a0 through the fire in my chest, ignoring the pain in my throat\u2014until I stumbled off the road and tumbled down a grass-slicked descent.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n Rolling now. Everything spinning. Gasping for air.\u00a0I splashed into a pool of muddy water and came up coughing, wiping my eyes to a sight that filled me with terror. The man stood\u00a0above me on the hill, looking down with one hand balled into a\u00a0fist and the other holding a knife.\u00a0<\/p>\n You\u2019re dead, I thought. He\u2019s going to kill you.\u00a0<\/p>\n A cloud of blue and red light rose behind him followed by a\u00a0voice. \u201cRemain where you are! Drop the knife!\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n But the man didn\u2019t. He just stared down at me with his breath\u00a0turning to mist.\u00a0<\/p>\n And took a step. Took another.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n Then the gunshots rang out.<\/p>\n Caleb Stephens is an award-winning thriller author writing from Denver, Colorado. His novels include \u201cIf You Lie,\u201d \u201cThe Girls in the Cabin\u201d and \u201cFeeders.\u201d His short story \u201cThe Wallpaper Man\u201d was adapted to film by Falconer Film & Media in 2022. He\u2019s hard at work writing his next thriller.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/il\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/Copy-of-sunlit.png\")
<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/il\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/Caleb-Stephens-mug-edited.jpg\")
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