Legacy

Chapter 7: Free

My son is alive. He's alive and he's only a car ride away. Well, an ambulance ride away. The detective is kind enough to let me rest quietly on the gurney, an IV stuck into my arm for the dehydration.

An EMT guy is busy carefully cleaning and wrapping the marks Michael left all over my body. He doesn't have to say anything. By the look in his eyes, I can guess what he is thinking: he has never seen so many marks on any one person before. Every time I hiss or tense my body, he asks if I'm alright, before asking if I need a moment.

I just shake my head and assure him that I'm fine. I haven't felt this good in years. Just to talk to someone who isn't Michael. It's like a breath of fresh air.

I glance over at the detective and blink slowly. "You promise this isn't a dream?" I ask, the pain killers making my eyelids heavy, even though sleep is the last thing I want right now.

The detective looks up from her notes. "Ma'am, I'm sure that after that nightmare you just survived, just about anything would seem like a dream." Her voice is kind and I get the feeling that she is trying to make a joke to lighten the mood- even just a little bit.

Her eyes go to my body, taking in how gaunt and broken I appear to be. "When was the last time you ate?" she finally asks.

I frown and close my eyes. "I don't know," I murmur, shaking my head softly against the pillow. "I couldn't keep track of time."

The detective shakes her head. "You could have been down there for days. There was nothing left in the rooms upstairs. No clothes, pictures, anything." She huffs. "He must've really cleaned house."

She doesn't have to say more. If they hadn't come when they had, Michael would probably have gotten rid of me like he did all my things. Like he got rid of every one of his victims before me.

For all I know, he could be stalking another girl to use, just like he did with me.

"Is it possible to get a warning out?" I ask. I don't care about the answer. "All girls in the state need to know about the danger they're in." I say, scrambling to sit up straighter. My body sways in protest and the EMT guy eases me back down. "He-he could be after someone else." I add in a hurry.

Detective Carter puts a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. "That will be taken care of. We'll get him. Right now, the best thing you can do is rest. Then we'll get you checked out, feed you, and then we can get any more helpful information you can remember."

"Where's my son?" I ask as I settle back down. The EMT hands me a cup of water just as I move to reach for it.

"He's at the station. Child Services have been taking care of him during the investigation," she answers. "He's been wanting his mama for weeks."

"Was he hurt?" I ask. "When you found him?"

"We didn't find him. Some hunters did. Said the boy was scared half to death and covered in dirt. They made the right choice to bring him to the station."

I release a sigh of relief and settle back against the pillow. Some wisps of hair fall into my face and I reach up to push them back. The ungodly amount of oil in my hair leaves a glossy residue on my palm.

It's been ages since the last time I washed it. Michael only gave me time to wash my body.

The idea of the hunters looking for Robin's worried parents and finding Michael is enough to make me feel sick. There is no telling what he would have done to those hunters if he was given the chance.

"If they're up for it, I'd like to thank them personally for what they did for my son. And me." I say, starting to feel myself slip from the exhaustion.

Detective Carter meets my eyes and smiles a bit. "I am sure we can arrange that." She makes a quick note in her notepad before tucking it into the inside pocket of her blazer. "Go on. Close your eyes. Get some rest. You've more than earned it."

I nod softly, barely able to keep my eyes open for much longer.

Even with the countless hours of sleep I've had in that freezing basement, this is the first time I feel relaxed enough to really, truly rest.

The brightness of the ambulance does nothing to keep me awake. I'm gently pulled into sleep by the painkillers and finally- for the first time in months (Who am I kidding? Years.)- no nightmares come to me.

~~~~~

I don't wake up until I'm being wheeled into the hospital.

My eyelids are still too heavy to keep open for very long. But my ears work just fine. There are a lot of hushed voices bustling around me as the wheels of the bed thump rhythmically over the tiles.

I groan softly and shift around on the bed just as I'm wheeled into a room. My eyes open just long enough so I can stumble- with a necessary amount of assistance- into a more comfortable bed.

There is a window in the room and I can see that the sun is setting just outside. I watch the sun go down as a couple nurses draw blood and hook me up to an IV.

It's not long before I doze off once more. When I wake up again, the moon is out, as if greeting me for the first time in a lifetime.

Of course, there is other light spilling in from the hallway.

But, oh. That natural light. I can't wait to feel the sun on my face again. The blinding light. The warmth.

I can't wait to hold my son to my chest and just listen to his breathing. Because, despite my fears- despite my horrors- my son is alive. Alive and free.

My son will finally know what freedom is supposed to be.

And I will be there to show him.

Because I am free too.