Wrapped in a towel.
Belt around neck, wrists and feet.

Dead no doubt, no pulse.
Looking somewhat like a person, in figure only.
No face do you have.

Heaved over a shoulder,
Slumping without resistance.
Ever will we here you speak?
You gave resistance, but were oh soo weak.

"Had a way of getting under peoples skin,
and then making them hit the roof."
Crushed, cramped, too tight to breathe.
Crushed from within.

Into the giant black tomb,
that is the car's hungry trunk,
head lolling like a broken limb.
No care used while being forced in.
Rigid legs made for some more resistance,
But ultimately, you will be missed.

The hatch closed, with accomplishment,
Through a pin-prick light pours.
The faintest hope had stood for you, but now, it stood closed.