Jack

Money was always a problem for your family when you were growing up. You didn’t have the nice things; sometimes bills weren’t paid, etc. Until your father ran into a job opportunity. He never mentioned what it was; he just said it was great. He was right. You, your mother, and your father could afford everything. Even designer. It was questionable how you three could go from nothing to everything. But it happened. You were happy, but it was strange. You would often ask your father how you guys could afford everything now, but he brushed it off and said not to worry about it. Was it drugs? Was he selling his body? You didn’t know what it was, but you brushed it off as well.

In reality, your father was a hitman. For the famous mafia boss, William Sylvester. Your father murdered at least two hundred people for them. He was involved in many shootouts, knife fights, drive-by shootings, kidnappings, and worse. Your father didn’t enjoy it. At all. But you guys needed the money more than anything. He wanted you to grow up with everything you wanted. The job paid great. It paid in between 100,000 and 900,000 (in cash) dollars, depending on the crime.

As you were watching TV, a pounding on the door was heard. “Nicolas, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” A voice spoke behind the door. Nicolas? Why would they want to talk to your dad? You remained silent; your eyes shifted towards the door. Then a few whispering voices were heard. You couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the next thing you knew, they were kicking. They were trying to break down the door.

Out of fear, you ran quietly into your room. You closed the door by locking it and leaning against it.

After a couple more kicks, the door was down. Men came rushing in. They searched the house, looking for your father. Then slow and heavy footsteps approached your door. They tried to unlock it before they tried to kick it down. You held back a scream, pressing your hand to your mouth. The door came down quickly. You saw men surrounding you before one spoke. “Chloroform.” One simple word. One of the men quickly pressed a washcloth against your mouth. You did your best to fight them before everything went black.

After a few hours, you woke up in a poorly lit room. Your hands were free, thankfully. It looked like you could move freely. The room has a twin-sized bed, a toilet, and a stack of clothes. It looked like a jail cell. You quickly stood, moving towards the door, until something stopped you. Your feet were bound by chains. Or shackles. You were so confused. Men are searching for your father; you were kidnapped. What else could go wrong? The door to the room slowly opened. It revealed a man. You recognized him. It was the man who said chloroform.

“You’re probably very confused,” the man said while grabbing a chair from the corner of the room. He quickly sat down in the chair, pointing back to the wall. Signaling you to sit by it. You slowly stepped back until your back hit the wall. You sat down, staring up at the man. “I’m Jack Sylvester, not that you care. We kidnapped you because your father owed my father large amounts of money.” The man spoke. Jack. He looked tired, with numerous scars trailing down his arm. Some looked like bullet wounds, some knives.

“My father, William, gave him tons of warnings. If he didn’t pay him the money, something bad would happen. My father did everything for yours. I provided him with a job as a hitman and paid for a nice home instead of the crappy apartment you all lived in.” Jack said while keeping a cold tone, his eyes examining you. “So, we’re keeping you until your father pays.” He spoke, his fingers crossed over his lap. Jack looked proper yet intimidating.

You didn’t know what to say. Your father? A hitman? Working for the mafia? A mobster? No, your father would never. Right?