Rotating the rusty handle gently open, Jason Bourne’s footsteps echoed throughout the apartment, but no one was there as he entered. Broken glass smothered the surface of the floor, the sofa, tipped upside down and shredded, like a savage animal had chased its prey through the apartment. Bourne’s thoughts were with the prey at this moment. He was aware what had happened. Exploring the rest of his apartment with severe caution, he expected to find the other rooms in similar condition. As he was about to set foot into his bedroom he was distracted by a substance which he caught out of the corner of his eye. The first reaction of Jason was to close his eyes and come to terms with what he had just seen. Taking large strides, edging closer towards the bathroom door with increased eagerness, Bourne was vulnerable like never before. Was he deceived?

Shock rushed through Bourne’s body as he noticed the door was covered in blood. He examined the entire door; back, front, hinges and handle whilst being immensely attentive to not come into contact with the sickening dark red blood. The immediate instinct was to think of the worst case scenario, it was his wife’s blood, Maria. He then gained a sudden burst of energy as he realised he found himself in a desperate need to find his phone. Proceeding to the kitchen where he remembered he left his mobile phone on the kitchen table, Bourne tried to control his nerves. Delicately lifting the phone off the worn out wooden walnut table, he then slumped himself against the freezer door and began calling.

A dialling tone was all that rang around Bourne’s head. His mind was feeling like a tempest inside; was he a part of some horrific nightmare that he will never awaken from? He started to traverse the room constantly walking from the window to the door, again and again. The screams inside Bourne’s head were unbearable. Inconveniently an idea struck him that he wished had come sooner, thinking to himself why didn’t I think of that before? There wasn’t time to think, awful thoughts were still bouncing around his head. Maria’s work place! This had to be the answer, she’s works at a hotel in Chicago, precisely twenty minutes away from the apartment. Tapping the eleven digit number hurriedly, he anxiously waited for someone to answer.

A voice, the receptionist at the hotel, started to advertise the hotel but he was immensely quick to cut her off and ask about Maria. However, the women at the hotel informed Bourne that she left early to go home and indicated it was a family emergency. Lost for words he didn’t even acknowledge the woman, everything seemed like a blur, a confusion. There was a piece to the puzzle missing, yet he had no idea what it was. Bourne eased down onto the floor, placed his head in his hands, closed his eyes and prayed that he would wake up from this cataclysmic, torturous nightmare. Something made miniscule contact with the back of Bourne’s head, but it was felt significantly by Bourne as everything in his mind was amplified. A deep voice, definitely a male, uttered orders at him ‘don’t do anything rash or aggressive otherwise I will put a bullet through your head and then your wifes’.

She’s alive! The idea made him ignite inside, but how long will it be until she isn’t living? The clock was ticking, time was dying on Bourne, but he couldn’t risk anything. Something had to be done, and swiftly, but he couldn’t jeopardise everything as not only his life was on the line. He was awkwardly seated on the floor, legs tied together, hands tied behind him along with a gun directed at the back of his vulnerable skull. He couldn’t put a face to go with the suspicious voice, the mystery man then demanded he wanted ten thousand dollars in cash. Bourne was definitely unable to dispense that kind money. A confident Jason Bourne calmly replied ‘’You won’t be getting that money and your gonna die today’’ but the man laughed sarcastically. One gunshot, then another…