This was the day that Marco Bodt reflected on his past life.

'Where are we actually going Marco?' Jean inquired restlessly. Marco couldn't help smirking. There had been a bit of a disagreement before they had left about who was driving the truck. Jean was adamant that he was driving, even after Marco had reminded him that where they were going was a surprise and Jean therefore couldn't know where they were going. After Marco realised that he was not going to change his decision about driving, he had hooked up his iPhone to the car and set the GPS. At that moment, the GPS burst to life;

'Turn right, and then take the second exit at the round-about,'

'Can you turn that stupid woman off, she's doing a pretty fine job of pissing me off and we haven't even gotten out of Middleburg yet,' Jean practically spat at the GPS. Marco frowned a bit and sighed.

'Jean, just calm down, I'll turn it down and set the screen up so you can see it,' He then proceeded to fumble around with the iPhone for another couple of miles before setting it up so it didn't keep sliding around across the dashboard.

They sat in an awkward silence for a long time. Marco had never been very good at small talk, even though he'd had endless hours of small talk conversations with his mother on holiday journeys. Just because you had private jets and shofars to taxi you to all the places in the world, it didn't make you any less bored, as Marco had found. Conversations with his father had been almost strictly out of bounds because of the strong, invisible line that kept the two separated. Marco's dad carried a sense of purpose and had some untouchable aura about him. Marco himself despised this and had always vowed he would never be like his father, never live up to his father's expectations of being the head of the company and never fall as low as to put money before happiness.

Marco stared out of the window, expressionless. Miles of flat land spanned out in front of him, it drew him in, like it had a grasp on his chest. Maybe that was why Marco had come, to feel free. To get away from the walls of his house, this had become his prison. His every waking thought, to get out. Being home-schooled didn't help either, it only made him want to know more about what life outside was like.

'Mummy, why do I have to stay here? Can't we go to McDonalds; it's this food place I saw on T.V! Maybe we could take Daddy too,' Marco grimaced at the memory, his younger voice replaced with the deeper, grown up voice he had now.

'Why don't you go ask the cook to make something for you Marco, you know Daddy's a bit busy to take a trip out today, maybe next week darling.' But that's what she said every week. It was a never-ending cycle of waiting and disappointment from his Mother mostly. Marco had never seen his father until his 7th birthday. He'd had so many expectations, seen so many pictures. They were all crushed when he'd come to his 'party'. It's not like Marco's parties were particularly interesting anyway, they mostly consisted of a few house-keepers and his own beaming mother presenting lots of expensive gifts to him. But that birthday, his father 'took time off work' to come and see him personally.

'Here, this is for you,' He had said to Marco, 'Sorry I can't stay any longer, work has come up, I'm sure one day you'll understand,'

'It's okay,' Marco heard himself say, 'Go have fun Daddy!' The tall, dark figure of his dad walked out of the memory and as the door closed, so did the memory. The light drew into the closing door and memory Marco sat in the dark, staring at the small package in his hand. He smiled and ripped the wrapping paper off. Looking back, the paper was too well to be wrapped by his own father, maybe one of his machines did it or maybe a housekeeper. Slowly and carefully, Marco lifted the cover off of the box and stared at it for a long time. It was a beautiful watch, gold plated with crystal insets, extremely expensive, but that meant nothing to Marco at 7. Underneath the watch was a small business card with the words;

'My Son. You are so grown up. This is for when you become a big boy and take over from me. It may seem a long way away but this is for you to wear whenever you feel ready. Your Father'

The darkness seemed to close in further around Marco, it closed tight around his chest pulling inside. Looking again, Marco didn't see his younger self but his own, older self, curled up with that box. Then his father, exposed by the small light that Marco himself was emitting, walking towards him.

'Come Marco, it is time,' It was his father's voice, but not his real one, a projection, the one on the other end of that phone. Marco stood and stared. He took a step back.

'I have the jet ready and you can even choose yourself a new suit, it will be a gift to you,' His father reached out a hand towards the hesitant Marco.

'No, I'm too young,' Marco muttered, unconvincingly. He took another step back.

'Mr Philips is waiting for you, and he has a wonderful business offer that you just have to hear. I told it was too generous but he insists you hear first,'

'No,' Marco's voice cracked as tears started to well up in his eyes, 'I won't,' He said a little louder.

'Marco, don't be like that, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity you are passing by,' The voice became more urgent, pressing against Marco but at the same time pulling him closer.

'I'm not becoming like you!' Marco shouted into the dream. 'This is it I guess then,'

He turned and ran.

'Don't be like this Marco, I don't want to have to force you,' The voice was inside his head, driving him insane. Marco clamped his sweaty palms tight over his ears and shut his eyes. It did nothing, the voice whispered in his head and the darkness didn't change. Marco opened his eyes just as a black whole began to open up in front of him. Marco skidded to a stop, unable to turn back, afraid of what was behind him.

'Do you see now my son,' This voice was not one that had been on the phone, this one was different. Unfamiliar. Overpowering. Marco flinched, he was stuck again. Nothing had changed. He was still faced with a choice. A choice, and he couldn't decide where to go. Marco weighed up the situation. No way out.

He jumped.