This is not how I imagined it. I didn’t think it would come so soon. I didn’t think I’d be so certain of the time it would happen. And I definitely wouldn’t have guessed this would be how I’d die.

Right now I’m tightly bound and gagged to a chair in my office that is bolted to the floor. I can’t move more than an inch in any direction. I’m facing the door. There’s a gun on a tripod aimed at my chest. A cord is tied around the trigger and to the door handle. As soon as someone pulls the door open the gun will fire and that should be that.

The reason I’m sure of the time of my demise? I set it. I sent Janie, my girlfriend, a note earlier in the day suggesting an after work ‘meeting’ and told her to let herself in, I’d be waiting with a surprise. I set the rendezvous for 6:30 and added “don’t be late.” Janie is nothing if not punctual, especially when there’s romance involved. Normally, I love her for that.

No, I didn’t know I’d be in this predicament when I set up the date with Janie. When I woke up this morning, this was going to be just another day at the Gambler’s Anonymous Help Line.

You know the string of numbers some guy rattles off at the end of an online betting ad faster than anyone can possibly write it down? I work at one of those: 1-888-Fold-Now. Clever right? Apparently it’s memorable.

On an average day we get 110 calls from people who are on the verge of losing everything, or already have. It’s not just money, it’s their cars, their homes, their jobs, their friends, and even their families. They might gamble on one thing, like horses, or these days, using an app, they might gamble on everything, like the color of the Gatorade that football players will drink during a playoff game. Whatever it is, the problem has similar trajectory, like a cold that evolved into a full blown flu. It starts out as a fun diversion that gives you something to talk about around the water cooler. Then, over time, it becomes an obsession, an addiction, an embarrassing loss of control that has to be hidden. Eventually it is an irresistible force, a tornado carving a path of destruction across a life.

I know this because I’ve been there, and this job is part of how I stay healthy. My drug of choice was Black Jack. When I started there was no online play, it was Vegas or local games in the back room of the neighborhood bar. I was already an addict but access limited how much damage I could do. And then the internet came along and I lost any semblance of control. Everyone has their own story, but mine ended up like so many others’, with me broke, alone, and on the verge of homelessness.

My journey back is a long story for another day, but it included 1-888-Fold-Now, and some incredibly generous souls who stood by me through my long recovery journey. That was five years ago. I’m now a manger at the help line.

At 11 am, I was at my desk. I’d just hung with Janie after arranging our date. The phone buzzed. One of the helpline call takers wanted to talk to me, something that happens multiple times a day. They get a call that is more than they can handle alone and they bring me in to conference.

“Sean, sorry to bother you, but I think you need to handle this call.” I could hear the tremble in Janet’s voice.

“It’s never a bother, it’s my job. What’s going on?”

“This…this guy says he knows you…from your days playing cards…that you ruined him…that your time is up.” I could hear her shaking through the phone.

“My time is up?” I repeated softly. I had no idea who this could be or what he was talking about. “Okay, put him through.”

I didn’t recognize anything about the voice on the other end of the line. Guessing, I’d say male, mid-40s. The gravelly tone said long time smoker. Could have been any of a 1000 guys I played cards with back in the day.

“Hello, this is Sean, what can I do…”

“Just listen” he interrupted “get something to write with. If you don’t do exactly what I tell you to today, your parents and little sister won’t ever be coming home.”

“What are you talking about, what do you know about my parents and my sister?” I tried to remain calm.

“I know you love them more than anything, just like I loved my family more than anything. And I know you’re going to have to choose your life and theirs, just like you made me choose between my life and the life of the people I loved.”

My mind was racing to place the voice, to make sense of what he was saying, to dig up something from my past that matched his story.

And then I remembered. “Samuel, is that you?”