Eye on the Prize

He was working late at his office in Dewey Beach, anxiously pacing back and forth. It was surprising that he didn’t wear a hole in the carpet. How did his life spin so far out of control? He had carefully planned and calculated every step, down to the last detail. The one thing he never expected was his greed. He never had possessions growing up, and once he did, he wanted and needed more. There was a lot of pain and suffering in his childhood, and somehow, he justified his actions because he genuinely believed he deserved all of his luxuries.

In addition to material things, he loved having money. It made him feel like a king, and he longed for more. He gave into temptation and stepped on people as if they meant nothing to him. Power blinded him, and in his pursuit of happiness, he lost track of the rules and boundaries. It was a dangerous game of deception. He behaved foolishly, and now he was desperate to put his life back together by making some changes.

A loud boom outside startled him out of his deep thoughts. How fitting was it that the sound arrived precisely at the witching hour? It was 2 a.m., and he was on edge and too paranoid these days, regardless of the time of day. Several individuals were understandably furious with him. It was the extent of their anger that put the fear of God into him. The thunder was rolling as the building shook. The weather had been nasty all day long as if it were seeking revenge. The rain was pelting the side of the building like bullets. The howling of the wind sounded like menacing ghost voices. Lightning lit up the sky for a split second and then disappeared into the darkness. Although it was dark, he knew the waves were monstrous and mighty

with foam spitting as it sprayed and punishingly pounded into the sand.

He was done struggling with his emotions and trying to sort out his life, for one night. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help him brainstorm a reasonable last-minute solution to his unfavorable situation. Tomorrow was another day. He turned off the lights in the office, set the alarm, and locked up. The storm was ominously daring him to go outdoors.

Halfway to his car, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on edge as if they could sense peril. Something was wrong, and the foreboding feeling seemed to be the powerful force of his intuition trying to guide him. The little voice in his head was trying to warn him about something he could not put his finger on. Maybe it was his anxiety causing so much doubt. It didn’t take long to find out. Suddenly he felt the cold steel barrel of a gun press against the base of his skull. An impatient voice cut through the sound of the wind.

“Keep walking. Don’t make a sound or try anything stupid, or I will blow your fucking head off.”

“I received your message loud and clear the other day. There is no need for the theatrics.”

“Shut up before I pull the trigger now!”

The stranger was rudely shoving him toward the back of his car.

The trunk popped open. Without any hesitation whatsoever, the strong hooligan opened the car door, pulled him by his hair, and unceremoniously threw him inside the Goddamn trunk. A gag was roughly thrust into his mouth, and his hands were tied tightly behind him. His kidnapper decided to show him no mercy, especially since his orders were disobeyed. The trunk slammed shut, and he plunged into complete darkness. He was all alone, yet his heavy breathing

sounded as if someone was next to him. The hopelessness of the situation filled his body with dread. He never anticipated his good fortune would come to an end. All at once, he became paralyzed with fear.

Was he going to die?