Mutiara Damansara, Malaysia. August 28 2011

My name is Nor Tengku. I was shopping at The Curve, one of the largest shopping malls in Malaysia. It was a typical Friday afternoon, and the mall was bustling with people. It was almost 5:30 p.m., and I wanted to get home to make dinner. My boyfriend, who sells office furniture for Apex, was out of town on a business trip. He worked there for a few years, and there was a convention he had to attend in Kuala Lumpur. The thought of a quiet evening at home, with a movie and a bowl of popcorn, was a welcome one.

So I was shopping for a birthday gift for a friend. I walked through the mall, feeling the cool air of the air conditioning against my skin. I bought her a beautiful purse, blue with brown leather straps, that I knew she would love. I also purchased a cute summer dress for myself at Mango.

I got a text message from my friend Sophia at around 5:15 p.m., asking if I wanted to watch a movie that night. It sounded like a good idea. So I texted her an "eyes" emoji and started walking to my car, my shopping bags rustling softly with every step.

My car was in the parking garage on level B2, a cold, empty expanse of concrete and fluorescent lights. There wasn't anyone else in the car park, so I was alone. I had parked about 100 meters from the doors, a small island in a sea of empty spaces. I had two shopping bags and my purse in my hands, and I juggled them awkwardly as I unlocked the car with my key fob. I opened the rear door, and the interior light flickered on. I placed my bags on the seat and started to put my purse on the floor.

That's when the door slammed into my back. I fell forward, and my bags spilled onto the floor. I felt a sharp, cold object against my throat, and I heard a man's voice whisper not to scream. His breath stank like rotten garbage.

He shoved me down onto the floor of the backseat. Waving a carving knife at me, he whispered again, his voice a low, terrifying hiss, not to scream. The blade was old and nicked, but it looked sharp, and the man's hands were trembling. He was probably about 30-something; he had a thick mustache and dark, curly hair. He looked Indian, and he was skinny and wore a loose navy blue t-shirt. I couldn't tell how tall he was because he was hunched over me, but he was taller than me, maybe 5'7".

Then a second guy appeared out of nowhere. The second guy had on a green shirt and had short, dark curls. He looked like he was also Indian and in his 30s. The second guy demanded my car keys and the parking ticket, but I couldn't remember where I had put them. I was in a state of shock, my mind a blank slate of terror. The next thing I knew, both of them pushed me deeper into the car. The first guy, the one with the mustache, got in the back with me, and the other guy got into the driver's seat and started driving.

I kept offering them money, my voice a broken, pleading whisper. "Please, you can take everything, just let me go." That's when the man with the mustache began to make advances on me, his hands reaching for my body. That's when I knew, with a cold, terrifying certainty, that I wasn't getting out of this alive. My head was racing, and I was terrified. "Get out. Get out. Get out," my mind was screaming at me.

The mustache guy kept trying to push me onto the floor of the car, but I begged to sit up. I promised to be good, to not make a sound. I don't know why he trusted me, but he did. He was squeezing my arm tightly, his fingers digging into my skin. It hurt. I told him he was hurting me, and he loosened his grip, but he didn't let go. I didn't fight right away. Maybe I was smart, but mostly it was shocking. I knew the only way to get out of this was to jump out of the car. But the doors were locked. I was leaning against the back passenger-side door. So I reached up and, with my fingernail, began to scratch my hair, a nervous gesture I made sure they could see. When I did, I unlocked the car door. I was so scared they'd see what I was doing. And then I waited. I knew that we'd have to slow down to merge onto the main road, and I knew there would be people on the street outside the shopping center. So I waited.

The moment the car slowed down, I opened the door. I tried to make a run for it, but I couldn't. The mustache guy grabbed me and pulled my body back into the car; my legs were still hanging out of the car, and I was kicking, my body a frantic mess of movement. The driver stopped the vehicle and reached around, trying to pull me in and close the door.

I just kept fighting, praying someone would see me and help me. I elbowed one of the guys and lost my sunglasses somewhere on the floor of the car. I think I bit one of their hands. At some point, the driver started yelling at the mustache guy, and that's when the mustache guy let me go. As soon as he let me go, I jumped out of the car and ran for my life.

I ran towards the Maybank outlet, my legs a blur of motion. There was a crowd of people there, and I was hysterical, screaming and crying. I grabbed the first person I reached by the shoulders, an older Malay man. I just begged him to help me, my words a garbled mess of fear and relief.

Sincerely,

Nor Tengku