I imagined the headline when someone finally found my corpse, shriveled and handcuffed to a bed. BANKER’S WORTHLESS SON, KIDNAPPED AND LEFT FOR DEAD — EVEN THE KIDNAPPERS DIDN’T WANT HIM. The funeral would be great. Mom would make sure of that. My disgusting remains would be laid to rest in the most expensive casket available, topped with an obnoxiously large headstone. I doubted Dad would even be there, unless Joyce managed to pencil it in his fucking schedule and disguise it as a business meeting.
