Allison left the club without saying goodbye to her friends. She knew she shouldn’t have had that last Cuba Librè. Her friends told her that they made the drinks much stiffer at the local spots than at the resort she was staying at and she was feeling a bit tipsy.
She knew she shouldn’t have gotten into the cab all by herself, but the hotel was over 3 miles away and she could barely walk a straight line. It’s not like she was going to try to stumble back along a bunch of streets in a foreign country this late at night.
She knew she didn’t like the cab driver from the second she got in his car. She knew she should have taken Spanish in high school instead of French. Maybe then she could have understood what he said to her right before he started laughing. She knew she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t help but feel in her gut that something was wrong. She knew as long as she made it back to her resort she would make an effort to drink more responsibly and not be so careless all the time, but she knew she was dead as soon as the cabbie locked the car doors and accelerated down the road past her hotel.