Thing 7: Something you had that was stolen

Originally posted to Facebook on May 31st, 2013.

Thing 7: Something you had that was stolen

Tom smiled as he walked down the quiet avenue. The streetlights illuminating the sidewalk at reguar intervals gave the scene a rather somber and forboding tone, but he didn't care. He was on his way home from a party celebrating his success.

A full scholarship!

He still couldn't believe it. After years of training with all of his heart, Arbitrary University had recognized his prowess and was offering a full ride to study with them. He would finally be able to escape this awful town and do something with his life. He could finally make his father proud.

He stumbled a little as a playful skip attempted in vain to enter his step. His drunken laughter echoed through the dark street. He took a seat at one of the streetlights to steady himself before he continued. He let his head rest back against the post, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Another giggle escaped his lips.

"Nice night, isn't it, Tom."

His giggle was cut short as the gruff voice addressed him. Holding his breath, Tom slowly opened his eyes to reveal a shadowy figure looming over him. His bottom lip started to quiver.

"Here, let me help you up." The man reached down and grabbed Tom by his shirt, roughly dragging him along the post behind him. As he ascended the light from the lamp above them began to reveal the man's face, confirming Tom's fears.

Angry brown eyes glared at him from a weary face adorned with an untidy stubble. His striped fedora matched the designer suit tucked neatly under his dark trench coat. The intimidation of the scene was amplified by three simple words.

"Where's my money."

Tom shivered as his feet dangled several inches above the ground and the entire world spun around his blurred vision. It took several attempts before he was able to speak.

"Tony, man, I'm sorry, I--"

"We're past excuses, Tommy boy. You assured me you'd have what you owed me by Friday. It's Sunday, and I'm left wanting." He slowly slid the shaking teen farther up the post as he continued. "Where's my money, Tom."

"I've got it, but it's not on me. I mean, if you let me go you'll have it by tomor--"

At that Tony slammed his hostage against the post, knocking the wind from his lungs and tearing the words from his mouth. Tom was violently thrown to the ground.

"Tomorrow ain't good enough, Tommy boy." As Tom cried to crawl away the hulking enforcer loomed over him. "We had a deal, and you crossed me. Nobody crosses Tony."

His grimace deepened as he bent down, his face hovering inches above the whimpering teen's head. "I think it's time you learned a lesson."

Tom's mind raced as he clawed at the sidewalk. This couldn't be happening, not now. Not when everything was finally starting to come together. He felt his captor's meaty grasp around his ankle, unable to find purchase on the ground before him as he was dragged back to the streetlight. He felt his leg being stretched out before the post. The word "no" blubbered from his terrified mouth over and over again as the enforcer's polished boot cast an ominous shadow over him.

And then the boot came down, and his vision flashed red with maddening pain. He faintly heard the enforcer scream "24 hours!" through the ringing in his ears. His now-mangled leg twitched uselessly behind him as he collapsed in a mound of tears and broken dreams.

All he had worked for, all of the training, all of his lofty aspirations: stolen away from him in one, swift drop of an angry Italian's boot. His dream of getting a higher education and escaping his troubled life were shattered along with his kneecap.