As I continued driving, I saw something in the distance. A figure stood by the side of the road, their thumb outstretched in the universal sign for hitchhiking. Against my better judgment, curiosity got the better of me, and I slowed down to get a closer look. The figure was a woman, her features obscured by the shadows, but there was something unsettling about her presence. Despite the alarm bells ringing in my mind, I stopped the car and rolled down the window.

Suddenly, she spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. She told me a story about a traveler who picked up a hitchhiker on a night just like this, only to disappear without a trace. Her words lingered in the air, heavy with a foreboding that matched the dark highway stretching before us. I glanced over at her, and for a split second, her expression seemed to warp into something inhuman. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized the true horror of my situation.

She asked for a ride to the next town, her voice soft yet eerily resonant in the silent night. I hesitated, my instincts screaming to drive away, but the empathetic part of me couldn’t leave her stranded. As she climbed into the passenger seat, the temperature in the car seemed to drop, and a chill ran down my spine. We drove in silence, the atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension.We reached the next town, and she asked to be dropped off at a small, dimly-lit gas station. As soon as she closed the door, I sped away, relief washing over me. In my rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of her standing under the flickering streetlight, staring after my car. Despite the distance I put between us, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I hadn’t truly left her behind. Some nights, I still feel those eyes watching me from the shadows, a chilling reminder to never stop on a dark, deserted highway again.