"As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison." -- Nelson Mandela.

- - - - -

Her heart stopped.

Her breath hitched.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Then shook her head defiantly.

Thump. Thump. Her heart returned to a regular pace and her breathing returned back to normal. She gaped like a fish for a couple of seconds before she clenched her jaw.

Willing her voice to even out again, she finally said, "You're my mother."

The pounding in her head faded into the back of her mind as those words left her lips.

The woman stood at the far corner of the room, and now walked towards Sam as the woman shook her head, emotion flashing in her eyes.

She had soft blonde waves flowing past her shoulders, and dark green eyes like Sam's. Her eyes, Sam noticed, weren't exactly like hers; they looked tired, pained and . . . incomplete. Broken. She had dark, purplish circles and lines below and around them.
Yet, with an angular face, flawless skin and a fit, womanly figure, there was no doubt, Sam thought, that she got whatever she wanted by using her body as an advantage. And men being men, most probably did what she wanted and followed her.

The woman noticed that she didn't react the way she had expected her to, instead, she looked rather . . . disappointed and unsettled. She wasn't too sure, though, since she was expecting anger, hatred even and maybe some sadness, too.

"Yes," she replied in an even tone. "I am your mother."

Sam shook her head slowly. "You'll never be my mother, not through anything besides blood. No."

She cackled maniacally. "Dear, saying things like that won't change the fact that I am your mother and have a right over you."

Sam felt as if her heart beat slowed down a bit. She now knows what Anne meant all those years ago, she realised, as the woman's face came close enough that she could make out her features properly, even with her glasses askew on her face.

She was shocked at how calm she felt in the presence of her biological mother. She thought she would have freaked out, got scared maybe . . . anything besides being calm.

"Oh, nothing more to say?" she taunted, smirking slightly.

"Where are my friends?" Sam asked worriedly, suddenly realising that her friends were no where to be seen and that they were with her when she was taken.

She looked around the dark room frantically, the room was empty, completely bare.

Worry seeped into her voice as she repeated the question again and again, her eyes frantically searching the woman's for an indication of where they were.

"Don't worry about them, they're safe and sound," she replied, watching Sam carefully.

There seemed to be a double meaning to what she said, and Sam narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Are they okay? Not hurt?" Sam questioned further, wanting an accurate answer.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say not hurt. Let's say that they're okay and not badly injured."

"Where are they?" she asked again, raising her voice a couple of octaves.

The woman's chuckles echoed through the empty room, bouncing off the walls and making Sam jump as it reached her ears again.

"Dear, please relax. I've said they're fine."

"That's not answering my question," she said, getting more agitated as the seconds passed and the woman stared back at her blankly.

"You'll find out where they are in due time," she responded after a while. "But right now, all you need to know is that they're fine; we -- I -- don't even know where they are. And, frankly, I don't care because you're my main priority at the moment."

Sam kept silent, picking up on the sudden change in her features and voice when she spoke and in the silence that followed after that.

"I'm Candice, by the way," she paused, "if you didn't know that by now. I'm just assuming . . . that," she breathed in deeply, and in a smaller voice, said, "Anne would've told you about it."

"Yeah, she told me all about it. Every. Single. Thing."

Emotion swirled in Candice's eyes, but she said nothing.

She pulled out a pocket knife, swung it around so that it was pointed down and clutched in a fist, then walked towards Sam slowly.

Sam's breath quickened, thinking that this was it. The end.

But then Candice walked around the chair and cut the ropes around Sam's hands and feet. She then walked out, locking the door behind her and she flicked on the light switch that was outside the room.

It was then that Sam realised that she needed her for something, she didn't want to kill her. Or maybe she did, but was waiting for the right time.

She fumbled with the ropes for a few seconds before she got them off. She fixed her glasses, and silently cursed when she saw the crack on the glass. The frame also had quite a few scratches on it.

She stood up, wincing as her ankle stung. The pounding in her head returned full force and she let out a small whimper of pain. After a few minutes of breathing in deeply and calming herself down, she sunk into the chair again.

Everything everyone went through the last few weeks was because of her. The question is why.

Why did she abandon me? Why did she abuse me? Why was she in jail? Why is she back here again? Why is she hurting everyone close to me? Why did she kill Sally? Why did she hurt Drake? Why did she follow me?

Her mind buzzed with thoughts as she fitted the pieces together. But even with that much information, she couldn't get all the answers.

She heard voices in the distance, nearing closer and closer to the room.

"Whaaat? No! Th-that's iinsane," the one man slurred.

There was a dry chuckle. "My man, please don't start your crap with me."

They both were men, she noted as she tried to make sense of their conversation.

"Pfft, sayys whooo exactlyy? I --" his sentence was cut short as Sam heard what sounded like one body colliding with another.

"Y-you! Agai-in!" she heard an outraged growl coming from the man.

There was a whimper, and then in a small, terrified voice, she heard a small girl say, "I s-sorry. I pyo --"

"Sorrryy! Yyou don't l-look sorry at all!" the man screamed hysterically.

It sounded oddly funny as he couldn't form the words properly, but Sam winced as soon as she heard a loud thump! and she heard the girl's whimper of pain. It was clear that the man was intoxicated, Sam picked up, otherwise he wouldn't have reacted like that.

As if him slurring wasn't a big enough of a clue, she thought sarcastically.

Heavy footsteps approached the door, and it was yanked open roughly. A girl was tossed inside, and the man shut the door without sparing a glance to the inside of the room.

It was a good thing, Sam thought, because she didn't want to face a violent drunken man at the moment.

The girl appeared to be small, she noted, as she lifted herself off of the floor and sat up straight. She dusted herself off and wiped her face, wearing a grim expression.

For a girl so small, Sam expected her to cry or whine, but instead, she lifted herself up off the floor and swiped her greasy blond hair back with her dirty, bruise-covered hands.

"Alice," Sam gasped, recognising her face. "Are you all right?" She rushed over to Alice, crouched down to her level and started searching her face and body for any injuries.

When she received no answer, she looked up to her face and noticed a small smile tugging at Alice's lips.

"I'm fine," Alice assured her.

Then she stated, "They caught you."

Sam sighed and nodded, "Yeah, I guess. What happened out there?"

Alice shrugged. "Oh, this was nothing compared to the other times. Don't worry about me. Are you alright? How did they catch you?"

"Wait a sec," Sam held up her hands, confused. "You talking normally? In the alley and back in the hall, you couldn't pronounce some words properly."

Alice laughed. "Yeah. It's just a cover. They have cameras all over, so I had to talk like that not to get caught. I talk like that with them, so that if they want to know something I can talk in such a way that they don't understand and they can't do anything about it. It's really irritating, though."

"That's . . . really clever," Sam said, shocked.

Alice shrugged.

"What room is this exactly? It seems like the type of room someone would keep hostages or prisoners or . . . whatever."

"Exactly. They usually throw me in here when they're fed up of me, but at least you're here to keep me company today."

"Today?"

"By tomorrow, at the latest, they'll take you out to do whatever it is that they do," Alice explained. "I'll be in here for a couple o' more days."

Before Sam could reply, Alice spoke again. "I know where your friends are."

Sam perked up. "You do?"

Alice nodded. "They just dumped the one anywhere, but I followed them and left some food for him. The other one was taken to another building not too far away, I think they're keeping him hostage. The first one left, I think he figured that he needs help -- like professional help -- to get you outta here."

Sam exhaled deeply, relieved, and pulled Alice into a hug.

"Thank you so, so much, Alice. Thank you."

Alice warmly returned the hug. "I'm glad I could help."

"How old are you?" Sam asked her.

"Ten. Why?" she asked.

"Ten? You sure?"

Alice laughed. "I know I don't look ten, but yes, I'm pretty sure I'm ten."

"You're so mature, you know that?"

"I am?"

"Yes, you are."

- - -

Lucas jolted up with a pounding head, mostly because he knocked his head when he was thrown down, and because he knocked it again when he jolted up, and also because he was knocked out cold. It could be a concussion, for all he knew.

He let out a colourful string of words and massaged his head. Trying his hardest to push it to the back of his mind, he got up after a few minutes.

An overflowing garbage bin was behind him, and its stench was beyond unbearable. He scrunched his nose, moving away.

Surprisingly, he found that his backpack was still on his shoulders. He dug through it, checking if everything was still there, and noticed two sandwiches placed inside which wasn't there before.

After getting his thoughts in place, only one name popped into his mind.

Samantha.

Looking around worriedly, he noticed that the village-like area was nowhere to be seen.

He quickly got up, clutching his head as a wave of dizziness and pain hit him. Clutching his head with one hand, he dusted himself off and looked around, trying to figure out which way to go.

Deciding that it's best if he gets help first -- because there was no way he'd manage on his own --, he checked the empty land that seemed to carry on for miles.

Shit, he thought, Carter isn't here either. How in the world am I going to figure out which way to go?

He groaned. I'll never find my way home on my own.

He pulled out his phone to make a call instead -- it seemed like the best option --, but all he saw was a blank screen and zero battery percentage.

He cursed loudly. "Why me? Now? Come on, can't the universe have a little mercy?" he complained, kicking the ground.

"Ouch!" he gripped his foot as pain shot up his leg. "Bad idea. Very, very bad idea."

He hopped around for a few moments until the pain went away, then walked straight ahead.

He turned right, then left, then in a circle. "God. Which way is it?"

Getting frustrated, the only thing he could do was fume silently and glare at the ground. He carried on walking anyway after a while, praying that he'll make it home somehow to get help.

A few minutes later, he came to a grassy patch of land and he spun in a 360° angle, recognising his surroundings.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you so much, he said silently.

He picked up his pace, walking as fast as he could. He then broke out into a run, knowing that he still had a long, long journey ahead of him.

- - -

The door swung open, banging into the wall behind it. Candice walked into the room with two men trailing behind her. Sam recognised one as the man who threw Alice into the room earlier.

Sam and Alice were currently seated on one of the hard steel chairs facing each other as they had been talking about nothing in particular earlier.

Alice slowly stood up from her chair and pushed it back into its place.

"Get her out of here. Nicely," Candice told the same man.

He replied with a gruff, "Yes" and gently took her out of the room.

Sam watched him until he was no longer in sight, then turned her attention to Candice. She didn't move from her place, and neither did Candice. They both stared at each other, none making the slightest movement.

Candice cleared her throat. "Did they send you food earlier?"

Sam gave a slight nod. They sent one sandwich with barely any filling inside that did nothing to fill her up a few hours after Alice was thrown into the room.

Candice nodded stiffly and an awkward silence filled the room. Sam made no attempt to talk, waiting for Candice to say something; she must have had a reason to come in here.

"Come with me," Candice said, turning around and motioning to the door.

"Where to?" Sam questioned, slowly getting up from her chair.

"Your friend demands to see you."

Sam quickly followed her out the door when she said that. She followed her through winding passages that -- just like the rest of the structure -- was dirty and old.

After a bit, they came in front of a closed door. Candice pushed it open and let Sam in first. She followed after and shut the door behind her.

Sam saw a boy sitting on the floor. He looked hurt and tired. His clothes were a bit torn here and there, and there was blood and sweat on him.

He was breathing heavily and had his head down. His hands and feet were tied to a chair behind him as he sat with his legs crossed on the floor. Three men stood inside the room by the walls, watching him and smoking their cigars.
Sam couldn't understand why Candice brought her here, but when the boy looked up at her, she gasped.

"Carter."

- - - - -

Hi, everyone! How are you?

Sorry it's been a while since I last updated, life happened.

Anyways, I hope this chapter made up for it -- I know it's not really long, but I'll try my best next chapter.

Don't forget to vote comment and share the story! It'll make me unexplainably happy :)

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Peace,

Croc