Sometimes there's something in a story that connects with one very deeply. The reason isn't always evident.
I remember being very upset, for months possibly even years, by a story I saw on a TV reconstruction, where a woman had been abducted by a man who had hidden in her car and then forced her to drive herself and him to an out-of-the-way place. It wasn't what happened then that upset me so much, it was the part where she was being forced to drive at gunpoint - she had been driving as slowly as she dared, as erratically as she dared, with her hazard warning lights going, trying to alert some passer-by or other driver to her plight. There had been plenty of passers-by and other drivers - the story started in a supermarket carpark - but no-one, not one person, had so much as called the police. It still makes me feel hollow, empty and hopeless to think about that.