Editing Hackforsatan19 (section)

===Call it off.===
[https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=E69029390E47E4E187B67A9E7518EEF152EBD1F3ABF367042D7639371FA97C3C Link]
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"You seem really..." 
"I'm fine. No worries!" he says to the rearview mirror, sweating.
"I... I don't think this is such a good idea," you say, hiking your hideous pink-sequined purse strap up on your shoulder. "I think I should go. It's not you... It's just... I can't do this..."
He's gritting his too-good teeth and looking intensely at everything but you.
You grab the door handle but nothing happens. He doesn't even look at you. You try again. And again.
"What..." keep cool, keep cool, "Will you unlock the door for me please?"
He's bobbing again. His tongue is flicking the back of his teeth to the beat of a song you're pretty goddamn sure you never wanna hear...
Something takes over your muscles-- some kind of animal instinct, an adrenaline shot of mindless, primal self-preservation. You lunge over him and slap the childproof lock button, then topple ever-so-ungracefully backward against the passenger door.
"HEY!" he shouts, his voice cracking on the high note. He yanks his hand out of his pocket. It's a knife. You reflexively scream "NOT A BONER!" and it throws him off-guard just long enough for you to throw open the door. 
"SHHhh-- Shut up! Be quiet! People will hear!" he says like a suburbanite loser fighting with his wife over the TV remote. Except, you know, he's slashing at you with a knife and ripping at your fucking clothes...
"LET... GOOOOO!" you shriek. He winces at the sound. You don't blame him. It's seriously gross and awful. STOP IT! PRIORITIES! You manage to tear yourself free from his grip and fall backward out of the car door, landing hard on the pavement, ass first, head second.
"SH--it!" he half-shouts, careful not to wake the neighbors, lest there be gossip about his marital spats. God for-fucking-bid.
You're bleeding but you're not sure where from. He must've got you with the knife. Maybe you cracked your skull open. Maybe it's just water. Maybe it's-- STOP IT!
He's still in the driver's seat, bobbing like a piston, indecisive, scared, confused, falling the fuck apart. And suddenly you realize why he looks so familiar. 
"I remember you..." you gurgle-sigh.
He jerks his head sharply to meet your eyes, biting the tip of his tongue between teeth that probably only seemed good in the context of turning a fucking trick to pay the cat bills. 
He reaches over and pulls the door shut. The engine turns and the car jerks forward a few yards then stops.
You can't move much. There's blood and it's a lot and it's everywhere.
The Mom Car's 'reverse' lights flare up white and all you can do is gurgle-laugh. The things I do for you, Mango...
https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=5ACFD4366A9707DC7A2EE2CC14CAB0340519362E01166CDF3179771AEFBD6ADD
(Goes back to the start)
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