Reduced to Ruin

The frantic click of my heels against the asphalt was the only sound cutting through the still, early morning air, save for the occasional chirp of a bird. I fumbled for my car keys, my mind already on the double-shot mocha waiting for me at Starbucks. Court was calling, and a Child Protective Services case wasn't going to wait.
Then, I saw it. A white van, illegally parked, its engine turning over with an unsettling growl. My heart hammered as the side door slid open, and a hulking figure lunged towards me. A scream tore from my throat, swallowed by the cool November air. I stumbled, fumbled, and tried to climb a brick wall, but a magnetic force pulled me back.
Strong arms gripped me, lifting me as my skin scraped raw against the bricks. A cloth clamped over my mouth, and darkness consumed me. "Don't let the perpetrator take you to a second location," echoed in my fading consciousness, a talk show warning I now understood too late.
