Instinct told him not to trust the man offering him a ride. There was nothing definite. The man held no obvious weapons. His smile seemed friendly enough. There was a small seed of doubt that crept into Trevor’s mind when the man slowed to a stop and called out the window to him. Yes the offer was tempting. It was pouring outside and he still had several blocks to go before he was home.

“N-no thanks,” he said, shaking his head and quickening his pace. A small voice in the back of his mind told him to run. The street was dark, rainy and, most importantly, deserted. Anything could happen. Trevor ignored that small part of his brain, for a moment. When he heard the car door behind him, he bolted.

Behind him he could hear the pounding of footsteps. They were coming ever closer. He couldn’t outrun the man. He screamed, sheer terror and adrenaline giving him a pitch and volume that reason never would. Then there was a sharp pain in his back and he paused. He coughed and saw something red spray out onto his hand. For a moment he stared at his hand, then he crumpled into the arms of the man who’d offered him a ride.

He looked up at the man and the man looked down at him. As his thoughts became jumbled, Trevor saw his death in those eyes. He’d seen it the moment the man had stopped to offer a ride. Then his eyes slipped shut.