Part two of what I wrote earlier. This is NOT a fictional piece nor is it a joke. It happened to me around 1 hour ago. So yes, the incident is still fresh. And in case you’re wondering, I’m scared, but at the same time, I’m pissed. And I’ve got adrealine pumping through my veins.

So what happened?

On the way home from gym, I took my usual route. This meant from the Motorola cable bridge to my house. I kept all the way to the left which meant that I was in the slow lane, so I drove appropriately. As I did, I noticed this Toyata Forerunner coming behind me, flashing his lights.

Me: F*ck off, as*hole. This is the slow lane, how much faster do you want me to go?

So I kept into that lane and didn’t speed up. He cut me at the first opportunity, which was a short distance from the bridge and at the traffic lights. Being irritated, I took a photo of their car, thinking to either post it up here or in that forum I’d heard about that publishes pictures of cars behaving badly.

I saw one of them looking at me, but thought he was a kid or something. Then the light was green, and we all turned right. As I did, I saw him pulling over to the side, looking as though he was going to turn off to the left. I tried looking at the other car as I did, but I couldn’t make out anything.

So I went on my merry way.

A few seconds later, I saw the telltale lights in my rearview mirror. They were behind me.

Immediately my dad’s voice rang in my head: Run to the police station if you think someone’s following you.

My own voice remembered me telling my mom: If someone’s suspicious, I’ll call the house.

But I didn’t want to accuse someone falsely, so I turned towards my house. Instead of heading directly though, I made a few turns here and there, hoping I would be wrong.

I wasn’t.

The as*holes were following me. I called my dad and my bro, telling them I would meet them at the station. Dad understood and said to go.

As I came out of the circuitous route I’d taken, I’d notice they were still following me. This is where my blood started rising.

Me: You f*ckers want to fight with me on my own turf? Let’s go, you as*holes!

I knew how to get to the police station: It was near my office. There were a few routes I could have chosen, but I chose the most familiar one to me, even if it took a little longer. I began speeding towards my office, praying and telling myself not to panic. I knew that once I did, I was gone.

As I headed to the police station, I noticed that they were getting further and further behind, but they kept me within eyeshot. As I reached the station, they suddenly turned off and disappeared. I ran into the station anyway, knowing that if I’d chosen to go straight, they could have cut me off at the pararell road.

I parked my car, switched off the engine, and with shaking hands (but sense of mind) grabbed my wallet and phone, then I got out of my car, locked the door and ran into the station. At first they were busy at the counter, then one of the officers asked me what was wrong. I told him I was being chased. I also started hyperventilating.

They told me to sit down, and catch my breath, and from what I could see, they were not being condescending (though one police officer, I heard while I was there, just got off the phone with someone telling him about someone who wants to commit suicide because they “putus cinta” or was broken in love). This amused and calmed me down, then a senior (in age, no idea about rank) officer came to me and asked me to tell the story.

A few times he told me to take breaths because I supposed I sounded out of breath, but my bro and dad came in a few minutes after I walked into the station.

I told the police officer my story and gave him the car number. He took it down and asked me if I wanted to lodge a report. I’m sorry Karcy, but I didn’t. I was too distraught and my dad told me not to lodge a report yet.

So I go home with my bro driving my car. The first thing I did was to hug my mom. I saw the worried look on her face. The second was to tell the whole story to my parents when I was in the house.

Then I called someone to talk about it after giving the details of the car to my dad.

As weird as it sounds, I’m not really scared nor am I fearful. I’m angry. I’m pissed.

And if they HAD come after me, as in got down from the car and tried to assault me, so help me God, I WOULD HAVE RUN OVER THE FUCKING ASSHOLES.

*Breathes*