The grocery store was the last place I expected this to happen. I stood in the cereal aisle, trying to decide whether to buy Fruit Loops or Cocoa Puffs. I chose Cocoa Puffs, my sister’s favorite. As I reached out to grab them and put them in my basket along with the grape juice, I felt something jab into my lower back.

A low, gruff whisper dropped into my ear, and the words froze my bloodstream. “Don’t move, don’t speak, or else she dies. Drop the basket and come with me.”

She dies? What does that mean? Who could he have taken except . . . ?

Sis.

A few things clicked into place in my mind. First, the object pressed against my spine was a gun barrel, probably hidden by a jacket. Second, if he or his buddies really had my sister somewhere, I had no choice but to comply because, thirdly, this place was too public to take him out, so, fourthly, I needed to get out of the store while also getting a look at the man threatening me.

Let’s just say that this wasn’t the first hostile situation I’ve been in.

I slowly lowered my basket to the floor, sad at abandoning the Cocoa Puffs. I tried to turn around quickly to catch a glimpse of the man, but as expected, he stopped me.

“Hold it! Don’t turn around, and move slowly. No funny business here.” His clothes rustled as he shifted his position, still keeping the gun at my back but allowing me to walk out of the aisle.

I did as he asked, and set out on a winding path to the front of the grocery store. I made sure to take him past the dairy section, where I knew that there were mirrors above the shelves. I wondered if he would catch on to my plan, but he made no move to stop me.

As we passed by the yogurt section, I glanced up at the polished mirrors. I locked eyes with myself for a moment and was pleased to see that, visibly, I didn’t appear alarmed. In truth I was terrified that about whatever they were doing to my sister, but over the past three years I’ve learned to block out my fear.

I shifted my gaze back to the man behind me. A dark blue jacket draped over his right arm, concealing his weapon as I had predicted. He wore faded jeans and a light gray t-shirt printed with a green logo that I didn’t recognize. A bushy brown beard covered most of his face, and his narrow eyes darted about nervously.

You should be nervous, you just brought a gun into a public grocery store. What do you honestly think is going to happen here?

I also took notice of how he had broad shoulders and thick upper arms, making him top-heavy, and when he walked, he slightly favored his left side.

We reached the front doors and made it outside without so much as a second glance from the cashiers. Sometimes I wonder how people can be so oblivious to what’s happening around them. If I screamed for help, would anyone even come to my aid? Or would they take one look at the man behind me and run away? Or would anyone even care at all?

As soon as we passed through the doors, the man felt free to act rougher, jabbing the gun into my back again as we marched towards the rows of parked cars.

“Back of the lot. Blue van,” he growled, indicating a vehicle parked a significant distance away from everyone else.

I nearly snorted at his lack of professionalism. Singling the car out from the rest of the population? What sort of amateur was this guy? The question of who was he and what did he want with me or my sister surfaced in my mind again, but I pushed it back down. I needed to concentrate. My timing had to be perfect.

I waited until we were five cars away from the space between the general public and the lone getaway vehicle. Then I made my move. I spun around fast, locking my hands around where I guessed his wrist to be under the jacket and twisting hard. He must have been shocked to see me actually fight back, because his grip loosened immediately. I yanked the gun away and tossed it a good five feet.

I kicked forcefully against his bad knee. He cried out, stance buckling. He tried to swipe at me, but his move was slow and easy to dodge. I kept low and he grabbed at me a few more times, but I darted behind him and kicked out his knee all the way. He shouted again and collapsed to the pavement. I slammed both my palms around his ears. While he was discombobulated, I picked up the gun from where it had slid. Defeating him had taken less than forty seconds, and I was a bit surprised at how easy this all was. Doesn’t he know who I am?

I stood in front of him and waited until he looked up at me before pointing the gun at his forehead. “Where. Is. My. Sister?”