Sour Grapes

was afraid she would vomit and choke.
    For just a moment Barbie thought of how many times she had used self-induced vomiting to keep her weight down. How ironic if she actually died that way, after hearing all the warnings about how dangerous the practice was and dismissing them as alarmist hogwash.
    Her captor had forced her to walk to the back of one of the cars that was parked at the edge of a lot, and now the person was opening the trunk. The gun was still pointed at her face.
    “Get inside. Now... move it!”
    So, she wasn’t going to be killed here at this location. Barbie mentally clutched at the hope that a car ride might provide her with an opportunity to escape. Obediently, she climbed into the trunk. It was harder to do than she would have thought, with her hands taped behind her and her legs weak and shaky from fear.
    But she managed to crawl in, scraping her shin painfully, and he down as she was instructed.
    Crunched into a fetal ball, on her side, she could smell the moist, mustiness of the trunk, the rubber of the spare tire, and the gasoline residue on the outside of a metal can beside her head.
    But those odors were only faint impressions. Barbie had far more pressing issues than unpleasant smells to worry about. Something in the manner of the person standing over her, leaning into the trunk, told her that something was about to happen. Something very bad.
    Maybe she was going to be killed right there and then, after all.
    Briefly, she wondered what it would feel like... a bullet passing through her flesh. She had heard that sometimes people were shot and they didn’t even realize it Maybe it wouldn’t hurt too badly.
    As though from far away at the end of the long, dark hallway, she could hear her tormentor saying, “You’re nothing but a cockroach. You know that, don’t you? A girl like you, who doesn’t care who she hurts, who she uses—you’re nothing but a damned cockroach.”
    Barbie had a thousand things she wanted to say in her own defense, a thousand things she wanted to tell her captor, having to do with their illegitimate birth, incestuous relationships, and their most unpleasant, eternal destination. Most of all, she wanted to say that she was special... far too special to be treated this way.
    But now, for the first time in her life, when she wanted most to speak, Barbie Matthews was speechless—because of the tape across her mouth.
    Her tormenter was rummaging around in the trunk near Barbie’s feet. ‘You know how they kill cockroaches?” the voice asked.
    Mash them? Barbie thought. Oh, god, was that how she was going to be killed? Squashed flat like a bug on a sidewalk?
    Was she going to be crushed here in this car?
    “I’ll tell you how they kill cockroaches.” The person actually sounded happy, as if enjoying the situation. The thought made her even more sick to her stomach. She had known it would be risky—this plan of hers. But if you didn’t take the occasional risk, you got nowhere. And Barbie had grown tired of being nowhere.
    But in her wildest fantasies, she’d never thought of this as an ending to her story.
    She tried to see what was going on as the person continued to fumble with something in the trunk. But Barbie was facing the front of the car and could see nothing but faint outlines in the darkness.
    “Here’s how they kill vermin like you,” the person said.
    Barbie closed her eyes and winced, expecting... she didn’t know what.
    Then she heard a pop, followed by a spewing sound. And she smelled a strong, acrid, chemical odor, that stung her nostrils and made her eyes burn.
    “Bug bombs.” That’s how to get rid of cockroaches like you.”
    Something hard was tossed into the trunk, and Barbie felt it hit her leg. Something moist sprayed against her calf, and the bitter smell was suddenly much, much worse.
    “You blew it this time, Barbie baby. You fucked with the wrong person, one time too many. And now you’re going to die for it.”
    The trunk lid slammed closed, leaving Barbie in complete darkness. As the deadly vapor filled the small enclosure, she thought she must be breathing pure fire into her lungs.
    She tried to scream. The tape ripped the tender skin on her lips, but it wouldn’t come off.
    She twisted her wrists until they were sticky with blood, but the bindings held fast.
    She rolled over onto her back, pulled her knees up to her face, and kicked as hard as she could at the top of the trunk. But as much pain as the movements