Prologue - Phrase Seven
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
When the man spoke, she became a hall, a puppet in the part of it that could resist vanished. I'll be very upset if you vomit in this car. Big girls don't do that. It was dark outside. An occasional neighborhood lamppost crept past the windows of the long black BMW, the car road. Quietly as gravel crackled under the tires, Nicole looked at the bearded man sitting beside her in the back seat, a thirtysomething who looked like a military guy. His beard pushed on the collar of his final shirt. The 24 year old yoga instructor heard herself say, No, they don't. Why am I agreeing with him? She blinked heavy eyes at the bearded man beside her, squinting to bring his features into focus. It was no use. The dense wood fog have been clouding the edges of her vision for the last day wouldn't disperse. Her mind sagged under the weight of that fog, and it was an effort to stay conscious. This man had done this to her somehow, and she had become used to it over the last 24 hours. She had never killed anyone until 20 minutes ago, and the man with the beard had told her to feel just fine with it. She didn't feel much of anything at all, But somewhere inside of her there was disagreement. Like in her belly. It wanted out. The leather seats smelled like luxury. She leaned her head against it, hoping that smell would keep her mind off everything. The beard man watched her. His gaze seems paternal. I feel like a child inside. He's enjoying it. The staccato click at the BMW's Turn Signals center attention forward to an unfamiliar neighborhood appearing in the windshield. We're almost there. So the older man behind the wheel, the driver war sharp suit that reminded her of her dad, the beard man took in a slow, calm breath. His breathing is perfect. It would be great. At yoga, he leaned forward and grabbed the side of the driver's seat. Make yourself safe Now, Mike. She turned her head to see the driver, pulling at a wire from somewhere beside him. He fumbled with it for a bit, producing a set of your butts and press them deep into his ears. Jazz music blasted from the tiny speakers, driver reach beside him again and found a set of hearing protection your months. Like the construction workers behind her yoga studio war, he steered with his knee while he pulled him onto his head, pushing them against his ears. He then grabbed the wheel, lifted his hand and shot a thumbs up gesture to the beard. Man the beard, man pat of the driver on the shoulder and turned back to Nicole. He sat back into his seat and looked her body over and his lips squeezed together in what seemed like shame. Maybe regret the coal. You're so gorgeous and you did a great job tonight. Are you ready for this to be over? Her face was still resting against the seat, but she felt herself nodding. A second later, there was a hand on her shoulder, and the beard man spoke a word in a deep voice that sent ice cold electricity down her spine. Listen, she knew he was saying that phrase again. She heard the second word Nicole and felt a forceful wave of gravity pull her into the seat. She heard the echo of a few more words. She was never quite able to distinguish part of her mind when somewhere else the part of her that stayed with this man would do things she didn't like. She had only known him for a day. Her life was ruined. She was ruined. All because she had raised her hand at dinner 28 hours ago.