When I was 15, I met a cute boy at the mall when I was out with some friends. He was older, in his mid 20s, and that should have been a red flag. But, I was the party girl who got drunk and high on the weekends and me and my friends hung out with older people pretty regularly, so his age wasn't a big issue to me. My best friend, another big party girl but practically my sister, didn't think I should go out with him because of his age. She thought he was creepy.
The next weekend he picks me up from my house one night and we go to Starbucks because that was the cool thing to do. He met my parents briefly before we left. I lied and told them he was a senior; he looked really young for his age. On the drive back to my parents house he passes my street and keeps driving. I tell him he missed his turn, and he said he didn't, we're going to his house. For reference, my parents live on the very outskirts of town, so at this point we're headed north out of town to the country. My mom starts calling me. She leaves me a voicemail saying my best friend had called her and was concerned because the guy was much older than I had told her, and that I needed to come home.
I tell him to please turn the car around, it's getting close to my curfew. He says nothing and keeps driving north. I ask him over and over to turn the car around or I'd call the police. I text my best friend to tell her what's going on. She immediately calls my mom to tell her and my mom calls the cops. I tell him the cops are on their way and to please just take me home. At this point we're in a country town north of the large city I lived in. There's nothing but mobile homes and huge expanses of farm land. I remember thinking to myself he's going to kill me
Finally, after about an hour of crying and begging to go home, he pulls over on the side of the road and starts punching the shit out of the steering wheel to the point of breaking skin and possibly his knuckles. There's blood all over the wheel. I ask him one last time to please take me home, that I won't press charges. He turns around and finally heads back. I text my friend and let her know we're on the way. The guy drops me off about half a mile before my house. I didn't care, I just wanted to be away from him.
The cops were there when I got home. I told them I wouldn't press charges. I felt like I was at fault for what had happened. I should have listened to my friend and stayed away from him.
It's been 10 years since this happened, and honestly I had blocked it from my memory until recently when my mom brought it up. I wasn't gone for long, but it was one of the most terrifying things that has ever happened to me. Who knows what this crazy guy would have done if we had gotten to his house.