I had only been sixteen when my father recruited me. I had always known him as a business-man, and like all my friend's fathers, he had gone to work before I woke up in the morning, and he had came back just before I went to sleep at night. I once asked him about what he actually did at work, and he responded by saying, “Business Adam, business” in a solemn yet emotionless voice. It was one of the few times I had heard his voice up to that time in my life, and from previous experiences. I had learned not to argue.

The fateful day arrived on March 18, one day after my birthday, in 1984. I was strolling home from school with a couple of good friends at a very leisurely pace because winter break had officially begun. It had been a great day. I had gotten an “A” on my twelve page essay, aced my pop quiz, and was released early. Best of all, my mom had allowed me to go on a vacation with some of my friends that lived in the neighborhood. I had always been popular, and friends with everyone, but my mom had always been very restricting so this was going to be my first trip without my family. I was thinking about how great the trip would be when I heard the wiz of a fast moving objects, followed by sharp cries from my friends who had both been walking at my right previously. I turned and saw them lying, lifelessly, on the concrete sidewalk. I then saw the curved daggers perfectly planted by only the tips in both of my friends' necks. There were pools of blood lying beneath their the gnarled faces, but not a single drop from where the dagger had made its way through there flesh. I then continued to turned around only to see the glint of the sun bounce off a metallic silver rod prior to impacting my forehead. All then got dark in a moment of unending pain.

I awoke with a stir to hear my father yelling at someone who I could not make out as I blinked trying to clear my vision. I felt sharp pains from a minute point on my forehead, but other then that and the fact that I was completely disoriented, I was fine. The first things I could make out were my two friends who I immediately noticed were not so fortunate. Their bodies were cleaned and stacked in the corner, and by the way they were configured I could tell that not I nor anyone else would ever see them move again. My vision then started to fade, the pain began spreading from my forehead and I got light headed. The next thing I knew, I was in a comfortable chair in a room pushed up against a large wooden table.

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t I was in a dimly lit room at the back of the table surrounded by men in black suits with solemn faces and reflecting sunglasses. All the seats at the long table were filled with other men in the same suits who were conversing with the men next to them quickly, quietly, and with no pauses at all. At the head of the table, was a high backed black chair facing away from me, so that only the arms of the man sitting in it were visible to me. But that was enough, it was my father. He then began to rotate and at that very instant the room became completely silent. Not a sound could be heard except my breathing; it seemed as though all the others had just decided to stop. When the chair had centered and came to a halt, my father lifted up his head and burned through me with a heated stare. I blinked and moved my head the slightest amount only to be grabbed by eight thick and powerful limbs and pinned back against the chair. When I looked back at my dad for some help, he only gave me a look of amusement and then went back to his continuous stare. Although I was in minor pain, shocked, and petrified, there was a small part inside of me that was happy and excited. It was not only the first time I had ever seen my father show an expression, but it was the first time I had ever seen him for more than twenty seconds in a day. This joyful thought left my mind almost immediately/ I began to look around the table again; one of the motionless men in black suits stood up. Then, in perfect unison, the rest rose and walked behind me. I did not turn around because of the fear that still emanated from the first time I had flinched.

After a few long minutes of motionless silence, my dad raised his head up and began to talk in a menacing baritone voice: “Adam, I have waited sixteen years for this day. You have come of age and may now join me in my business if you choose so.”

“What business?” I shallowly inquired, shocked that he had spoken to me directly and alone.

“All will be explained if you agree to join me Adam. You will be a successful and wealthy man in no time.”

“What about finishing High School and Coll-”

“Unnecessary,” he firmly interrupted. And with that he slowly spun his chair around, stood up, and exited the room through what seemed to me to be a hole he had opened in the wall. I just sat there in solitude and thought. What could the “business” be? It can't be good. I mean he brought me here by use of force and in doing so killed my two best friends. Then again he is my father and it is right to take up the family business. He hasn't spoken to me my entire life, and him addressing me personally must mean its important. He also said I could stop going to school and still grow up to be rich. And who knows what will come of me if I say no? He has never treated me like a son before, so how do I know he won't do the same to me that he has done to my friends. I have to say yes; it is an opportunity of a lifetime to both get to be with my father and get rich, and if I turn it down, I may never get another opportunity or anything else for that matter, ever again.

With my decision made, I thoughtlessly stood up. I was once again pinned down, but this time there was a wire under my chin pulled tight against my throat. Thoughts were shooting through my head as though my brain was a race track. What's happening? Why are they doing this? I didn't mean any harm. I want to join them and help them. They must have thought I wanted to escape. I was trying my best to get out of their grasp when the room started to dim. I felt weaker then I had just a minute earlier, and it got hard to continue to wiggle. It didn't occur to me that they were trying to kill me until I tried to gasp for air but was unsuccessful. And with that in mind I realized that struggling was useless, so I shut my eyes and calmed myself trying to portray death, and the second the grips on my arms faded I shot them up to the wire under my chin and pulled at it with all my strength. They reacted quickly and again yanked at my arms and the wire but I had already got my fingers between it and my throat. I could breath again, but I felt the wire severing the top halves of my fingers. I then felt the warm blood dripping down on to my neck and down to my chest. I looked up to see the only thing that could have given me hope; it was my father, but he didn't look happy like he was enjoying himself, he looked ashamed. I did not know my father could ever feel any emotions prior to this day, and here he was feeling sorry for me. At that moment, the pain stopped; they were still pulling at the wire but it didn't hurt any more. When I made eye contact with my father, he turned away from me. I then knew he didn't want me dead but I could not get enough air in me to tell him my choice.

Though the pain did not come back, I still felt the hounding pressure of the wire and began getting light headed. I looked down at my once brown shirt and saw that most of it was a dark maroon-like color. The next sight made me sick. The pads of my fingers were gone. All that I could see was the pure red color with spots of white where the bone stuck out. I then did one of the least enjoyable things in my life which I would never do again even though it saved my life. I had not been accustomed to seeing large portions of blood and gore at the time, so in all the commotion, I puked. I tried to stop it from coming up but I could not for my lack of air provided me with no strength. Since the wire was up so tightly held against my finger bones and neck, there was no room fore the vomit to escape from. It got caught up in my throat, and I began to gag. After what seemed like minutes of gaging, I began to jerk my body around in effort of survival. Then, to my surprise, after jerking my body back into the back of the chair, there was a moment when the wire was not up against my neck. The pain was excruciating, but I managed to spit up what felt like all of my insides and take a breath of air. You really don't realize how enjoyable breathing is until you have been deprived of it for more time than you should have been able to survive without. But, it was no time for me to be celebrating. I looked up and saw the wire being yanked back. It was as though time was moving slower just so I could capture and understand all that was around me. I began focusing my vision on different things. First I looked closely at the walls to my left. They were plain, but after zooming in to the best of my abilities, I saw the pattern of small rhombuses; one after another stretching and back rounding the entire room. I then focused in on the hand holding the wire an inch or so from my neck. It was young, yet strong. Covered by scars and blade marks. I could see the small blue veins pulsing ever so slowly. Then, as if being yanked by some divine force, my eyes shifted to my father. He was like a statue. Never before had I noticed the perfection in him. His posture was infallible. His body was muscular and perfectly proportioned. It was at that moment that I understood everything. There was no need for school. Somewhere inside I always new I was better then everyone else, and now I knew why. I was my fathers son, I was perfect.


It now seemed so clear. Focusing in on myself I confirmed my thought. There were no flaws. Even the blood seeping out of my fingers and down my neck was dripping in a perfectly straight lines. It was not godly but close, and I could feel a certain energy building up inside me. A need to live on. A need to do something with my gift. I couldn't die, I had to tell my father and join him. There was perfection in me and it would not be taken away along with my life. After a moments thought, I began. Still without air, the energy and rage had built up inside me. I took my hands out from under the wire, and it snapped up against my neck, but it didn't matter. The hands were still on my arms but now they were weak. Effortlessly I cracked my knuckles, and got up from the chair. The wire snapped. I then felt more arms along me, all around my body pulling and yanking me down to the chair, but they couldn't. After a deep breath in, I conjured up the most powerful baritone voice I could and spoke: “Father, I will join you.”

After a slight moment of indecision and confusion, he nodded his head. Stood up and walked around the table to my side. I had never before realized it, but he moved with stellar precision and stealth. The many other men in the deep black suites had exited the room. We were alone. Him, in his all black suit with the black and white striped tie, fit perfectly to his perfect form; and me, in my now red tinted brown button down shirt and jeans covered in blood and small the chunks of skin that had been ripped of my fingers and neck. It was calm, and the utter silence and dim lighting provided the kind of serenity one only dreams about when stressed and confused. Then, through the deep tranquility, he stuck out his hand; I shook it with what was left of mine; he reached back and opened the door behind him; I saw the bright light just before my perfectly traumatized and wounded body gave way.