Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#103Reader Mode

#103

Johan, thankfully, was strapped in tight. His seatbelt dug into him as the car fishtailed, saving him from a smashing into the dashboard. He gripped the wheel, knuckles bone-white, wrestling the car back under control. Outside, the world was a dizzying blur, his mind a scrambled mess of thoughts.

Meanwhile, Tim was completely losing his shit. He clung to his backpack like it was a life raft, his other hand flailing a half-empty water bottle at Johan like a tiny, pathetic weapon. His eyes were wide and wild, like an enraged monkey whose favorite treat had just been snatched away.

The thought of pulling over to handle Tim’s escalating meltdown crossed Johan’s mind, but Tim seemed to read his thoughts, his terror ratcheting up another notch. He was having none of it.

Tim’s chest heaved, his eyes burning with an almost manic energy. In a sudden, desperate move, he ripped his seatbelt off. His gaze darted around the car, frantic and unfocused, like a caged storm bursting to be free. Then, without a word, he lunged for the steering wheel.

The small car exploded in a tangle of limbs and fury as the two men fought for control. Their struggle was a chaotic mess, a miniature version of the universe right before the Big Bang.

A giant tree suddenly filled the windshield, its thick trunk a looming wall of imminent doom.

Johan’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what happened. Tim’s frantic thrashing had sent them careening off the road, hurtling straight for it. With lightning reflexes, Johan shoved Tim aside and wrenched the wheel hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a catastrophic collision by a hair’s breadth.

Tim slammed into the passenger door with a grunt, his face twisted in pain. For a fleeting moment, everything went quiet, the chaos catching up with Johan. But Tim’s rage was far from over.

With a guttural snarl, Tim grabbed the door handle and unleashed a barrage of vicious kicks, aiming for Johan’s hands, chest, and head. Despite his skinny body, his hysterical fury made him a surprisingly formidable opponent in the cramped space.

“Aargh! Ahhhhh!”

Tim’s shrieks echoed in the car, each one rising in pitch and intensity, like he was the one being attacked. The irony wasn’t lost on Johan, who was on the receiving end of those wild kicks. In the midst of the chaos, Johan couldn’t understand how this seemingly chill hitchhiker had transformed into a raging lunatic.

So, he gave up trying to understand. Empathy wasn’t exactly Johan’s forte anyway, so he defaulted to his usual detachment. Calmly, he reached over and unlocked the doors. He’d gone out of his way to pick Tim up, a rare act of kindness for him, but if this was the thanks he got, what was the point of continuing?

Johan already had enough unsolvable problems in his life; Tim’s erratic behavior was just one too many. If communication was a lost cause, there was no reason to even try. Tim was using the passenger door as leverage for his relentless kicking… a door just out of reach. Johan’s door, however? That was a different story.

He shoved it open. A rush of wind roared in, slamming the door against its frame and sending vibrations through the car that amplified the already tense atmosphere.

Tim’s eyes widened as the door swung open. Johan’s sudden move sent a jolt through him, shock rippling through his body. He gasped, chest heaving, his shirt straining against his ribs.

“You’re trying to escape?!” Tim accused, completely missing the mark. Only someone who didn’t know Johan would even consider that. The car was his only way to chase after his beloved Seojun. Leaving it would be beyond stupid, and the absurdity of it all was so glaring that even in the middle of this chaotic mess, Johan couldn’t help but call it out.

“Seriously? Do I look that dumb?”

Johan’s grin – that unsettlingly cheerful, almost feral curve of his lips – flashed as he grabbed Tim’s flailing ankle. His grip was instant and unbreakable, like a steel trap clamping down on the struggling hitchhiker, all while his other hand never left the steering wheel. Then, with an effortless ease like plucking a radish from the ground, Johan yanked Tim from his seat and launched him through the open driver’s side door. It happened so fast, so fluid, Tim barely registered what was happening before he was flying through the air, his mind struggling to catch up.

The nerve of this guy. Tim, the self-proclaimed hitchhiker and killer, leaving a trail of bodies, attempted murders, and brutal beatings in his wake, actually had the audacity to be shocked by Johan’s bold move.

“AGHH!”

But Tim wasn’t going down without a fight. Dire straits or not, he was determined to make Johan pay, even if it was the last thing he did. As Johan tossed him from the car, Tim’s hands shot out, pure survival instinct kicking in. He grabbed the edge of the driver’s side door, fingers clinging for dear life. The wind slammed into him, a brutal, relentless force. But Tim gritted his teeth, knuckles white with strain, refusing to let go. He’d claw his way back from this. He had to.

A couple of his fingers snapped backward, bent at an agonizing angle. He knew they were broken. But the pain only fueled his rage. Teeth gritted, he hung on, a fragile, flailing human kite fighting against the wind. His knees scraped against the blurring asphalt, raw and bleeding, each second a fresh agony. But still, he wouldn’t let go. Battered, bruised, and clinging to the car by his fingernails, Tim’s determination remained unbroken.

“You… murderer!” Tim’s accusation was a garbled mess, pain and anger mangling the words in his throat, ironic considering his own bloody past. Even Johan seemed taken aback by the sheer venom in his voice.

Johan’s laughter erupted, a harsh, exasperated sound. “I told you it was a made-up story, didn’t I? Even Jun doesn’t know how good I am at making things up!” His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He’d already decided on his next move as the situation spiraled further out of control. With the same calm he’d displayed earlier, he reached out and slammed the door shut.

But this time, there was a problem… Tim’s hands were in the way. That didn’t stop Johan, though. He slammed the door again and again, each blow harder than the last.

Bang!

The first impact wrenched a pained grunt from Tim.

Bang!

The second slam was brutal, forcing a scream from his throat.

“ARGH!”

BANG!

The third time, the door slammed into Tim’s right wrist with a bone-crushing force, the sound similar to a twig snapping in two. Tim’s shriek was a raw, animalistic howl, a guttural mix of pain and and fury.

“AHH! Goddammit! You son of a b*tch!”

Johan was merciless. If the door wouldn’t close, he’d keep trying until it did. He didn’t need to be gentle. Three savage slams were all it took to break Tim’s grip. His wrist shattered, and he tumbled away from the car, unable to hold on. Johan didn’t waste a thought on why Tim had fallen. Whether it was the broken wrist or a lost grip, the outcome was all that mattered.

But in a final, unexpected act of kindness, Johan slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt, and rolled down the window. Without a word, he tossed Tim’s backpack out onto the road like it was yesterday’s trash. The car had already put enough distance between them to make it nearly impossible for Tim to retrieve his belongings. But that wasn’t Johan’s problem.

“Phew… I’m beat,” Johan sighed, the distant screams and wails from the road fading into background noise. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Sinking back into his seat, he spotted his water bottle, the one Tim had been swinging around like a maniac earlier. Johan grabbed it and took a long swig, downing the lukewarm dregs. It didn’t quite quench his thirst, but at least it wet his parched lips.

Johan couldn’t help but glance in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. In the distance, Tim was crawling towards his backpack, his progress slow and agonizing. His legs appeared to be badly damaged, adding to the already extensive list of injuries – a broken wrist, busted fingers, and who knew what else. Every movement seemed to be a struggle, pure torture etched on his face. Johan let out a low, disapproving “tsk”.

He wasn’t one to get worked up over minor slights, but this? This was a whole new level of ingratitude. After he’d gone out of his way to give Tim a ride, this was the thanks he got? Johan was stunned. He tossed the empty water bottle into the back seat, gripped the steering wheel, and fixed his gaze straight ahead, deciding to leave Tim and his misery in the dust.

“The world’s full of scary people, I guess. This is what it’s like out here, away from home. What’s his problem, anyway?”

Johan briefly considered calling the cops. It was the responsible thing to do, the law-abiding thing. But Johan was a lovesick young man, and the idea of getting bogged down in a bunch of tedious procedures just didn’t appeal to him. A bright smile spread across his face, and he made up his mind to just hit the road.

The yellow VM bug sputtered forward, as if sensing his decision. He floored it, leaving behind nothing but an empty stretch of road and one lonely, struggling figure in his rearview.

“Agh…”

Tim’s anguished groan rattled his chest, a ragged sound lost in the gasps that wracked his body. Pain, unlike anything he’d ever known, ripped through him, eclipsing even the familiar ache of his illness. It was a living thing, a predator devouring him from the inside out.

He’d lived a life of privilege, shielded from the brutal realities of the world. Now, fate had turned on him, twisting the knife and shoving him into a waking hell from which he couldn’t escape. Desperation, pure and primal, clawed at him, fueling a frantic struggle towards the backpack just out of reach. It held his only salvation, and he clung to that hope with the terrifying ferocity of a drowning man.

His hands pulsed with a dull, throbbing ache. The left was a mangled mess, fingers twisted at unnatural angles. The right hung limp and useless, the wrist a shattered ruin. His legs, thankfully still in one piece, felt like lead weights, refusing to obey his desperate pleas to move. Every slight movement sent fresh jolts of pain through his raw, scraped knees. Standing, even thinking about it, felt like an impossible feat. Trapped in this broken shell of a body, he could only manage a pathetic whimper as the darkness crept in, a smothering shroud stealing his breath and his hope.

“Killer… you murderer!” The words ripped from his throat, a raw, guttural scream that was swallowed by the vast emptiness of the road. Hot, angry tears streamed down his grime-streaked face, leaving stinging trails of salt on his cracked lips.

Self-discovery? He scoffed. What a cruel joke. Survival. That was the only thing that mattered now. The hopeful gleam that once shone in Tim’s eyes had been replaced with a cold, hard fury, laser-focused on the backpack lying abandoned in the middle of the road.

Tim felt the crushing weight of loneliness, like a physical force squeezing the air from his lungs and snuffing out the last flickers of hope. The thick fog on the road was like a suffocating blanket, obscuring the road and hiding any signs of life. No car headlights cut through the heavy gloom, no friendly faces appeared in the distance. Johan had vanished into the vast emptiness, abandoning Tim to a gnawing, gut-wrenching fear. His family, the police, an ambulance… they all seemed impossibly far away. His phone. It was in the backpack. He had to get to it.

Just as despair was about to drag him under, a familiar hum vibrated through the ground, jolting him like electricity reviving a dying pulse. Adrenaline flooded his veins, and he snapped his head up, his sunken eyes flickering with a spark of hope.

“Always the lucky one…” he rasped through a pained, blood-stained grin.

The car’s headlights sliced through the dense fog, lighting up the deserted road as it appeared like a savior from the mist. In that instant, he felt a rush of gratitude for this chance at rescue and decided to spare this kindhearted driver. With the last ounce of strength he could muster, he raised his injured hand high, gritting his teeth as his broken fingers trembled with pain. Coincidentally, the way his fractured fingers were bent, with his stiff, injured thumb pointing straight up, formed the iconic hitchhiker’s symbol—a desperate plea for a ride.

But as the car drew closer, a prickling unease settled over him, a cold dread seeping into his bones. There was something off about the vehicle, something inexplicably and terrifyingly wrong. The license plate hovered on the edge of his memory, a soft whisper of warning that sent a shiver down his spine. He squinted, trying to make out the digits, but they remained hazy through the fog, taunting him with the horrifying possibility that this car was one he knew all too well.

The realization slammed into him like a runaway train, obliterating all other thoughts. It was his car, the one he’d scrapped, the one tied to his deepest, darkest secret. His first kill, a memory he thought he’d buried in the farthest reaches of his mind, now hurtled toward him, headlights blazing with an almost blinding intensity. The dented hood served as a cruel, brutal reminder of the life he’d taken. Terror gripped his throat, choking off his breath as the car accelerated, showing no signs of slowing down.

“Uh, uh… Ahh—”

A strangled cry died in his throat as his eyes met the driver’s, the sound freezing into a silent scream. Though he’d never seen her face before, the blood-matted blonde hair and the tattered remains of a once-thin sweater were enough to bring the horrifying truth into sharp focus. The woman’s face was covered in scrapes and bruises, with blackened blood oozing from gaping wounds that had disfigured her once-delicate features. It was the gruesome aftermath of his own brutality, the result of dragging her lifeless body along the road and into the pitch-black woods.

In that terrifying moment, a chilling certainty gripped him. He was finally staring into the face of his own demise.

And that was the last thing Tim ever saw.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Johan muttered under his breath, “Fantastic. Just what I needed. Looks like I’m stuck fixing this thing after all.”

He tugged on the driver’s side door, loose from when he’d flung it open earlier. Chasing after Seojun was his priority, but the thought of sinking more money into this car made him wince. If he could just catch up to Seojun, he could ditch this car for good. But that felt like a pipe dream right now. Johan let out a tired sigh.

“Unbelievable…” he mumbled, scratching his head as he slumped back into the driver’s seat. The last few hours felt like a bad dream. He buckled up, shaking his head in frustration. Staying put on this deserted road didn’t feel right. Better to find a mechanic and assess the damage, then figure out his next move.

Just as he was about to pull away, a deafening horn ripped through the air, a prolonged blare that screamed of impending disaster. Blinding headlights filled his vision, forcing him to shield his eyes. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, but there was no time to react. A brutal impact slammed into the car, throwing him against the seatbelt.

Then, everything went black.