Kidnapped.

The worn leather of the driver's seat creaked beneath Kahli Dina Taylor as she navigated the familiar, soul-crushing traffic. Her cracked iPhone 5s screen glared back, mocking her with the truth: five minutes late for high school, or as she affectionately called it, 'the hell hole.'
“Dammit!” she muttered, running a hand through her long black hair, pulling it into a high ponytail. A quick swipe of thick mascara and peppermint chapstick were the extent of her morning glamour. She was no beauty queen, but she made the effort.
Traffic finally broke, and she sped towards school, the old Toyota Syvic, a sole survivor of the fire that claimed her parents, humming beneath her. School, surprisingly, was her refuge, a stepping stone to a future where she could be a doctor, a dream she clung to fiercely. Parking away from the usual cliques, she adjusted her sweatpants and black jacket, grabbing her book bag. Another day, another fight.