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Alan blanches at my obvious accusation, his aura flashing with disbelief and hurt, but he recovers quickly and presses in closer around us. “A truck T-boned me at a stoplight, ran straight through a red light. My car is totaled.”
I don’t feel any dishonesty in his words and I suddenly feel like shit for ever letting it cross my mind that he’s anything but the man he’s always been. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My mom…”
I trail off and understanding settles through him, sorrow following directly after. “She’s alive. She’s going to be okay.”
“Is she though? I saw what he did to her. She’s never going to be the same again.” My head is pounding to an unheard rhythm, a cacophony of guilt and despair within me fueling each beat. “There are worse things than death.”
“I know…” He seems at a loss for words and I take pity on him, changing the subject. It’s not like he can offer me any reprieve from my own inner turmoil.
“The stalker got away.”
“Yes, he did. Detectives, did you happen to see anything to give us a clue to who this guy is?”
“No, sir. It was too dark in the basement to see him when he fled, but he fired at us. Maybe we can get some info from the casings he left behind.” Nic supplies, his voice rumbling through his chest pressed against me. I lean into the vibrations, resting my head on his shoulder as I go over the vision in my head.
“We’ll do that.”
“He got away in a silver Toyota Camry. The first two letters on his plates are A and T, but I couldn’t get the rest.”
“Anything else?”
“It was our fault he got away. There was an access point to the basement that we didn’t know about. If we had taken the time to case the area beforehand, we would have seen it and he wouldn’t have gotten away.” Kai’s voice interjects, his tone heavy with regret, and I snap my head towards him.
“That’s not true. Don’t you dare take that guilt on yourself!” My anger flares at the idea that any of them are suffering and blaming themselves. “If we had waited, my mother would be dead. Just one second longer, and she would be gone. I saw it myself.”
“You said it yourself, Wick, there are worse things than death.” He argues, but his aura lightens just a little at my proclamation.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s our decision to not save someone.” I hesitate for a moment before continuing. “Besides, I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself if she died because of me. It’s too…final.”
“Hey…none of this is your fault.” Kai’s tone softens as he steps closer to me, his hand cupping my face gently. “The only person who holds the blame is that psychopath, you hear me?”
Nic snorts derisively and his arms tighten around me. “Let’s not forget what that woman did to Izabella. She wouldn’t have been down there at all if she was an actual mother.”
“Alright, that’s enough. Is there anything else I should know?” At Alan’s interjection I think about the vision, my mind immediately focusing on the piece of metal the psychopath uses to blind his victims. I don’t know what stops me from telling him, in fact I can’t seem to come up with anything rational at all, yet I refrain from saying anything.
“No, nothing else,” I respond, my voice strained. I feel the weight of Nic’s attention focused on me, but I ignore it entirely. I’ll tell them all later.
“Here she comes,” Alan says before anyone can add anything else and I feel Nic turn us back towards the house.
I press against his chest and he lets me slide to my feet, but doesn’t let me step away. Instead he grabs my shaking hand in his strong one and offers me his silent support. I feel Ezra press in behind me as Kai steps up to my other side. As we wait for the EMTs to bring her stretcher off the porch, my heart beats rapidly and does nothing to help the migraine settling in.
Two visions in one day will do that.
“Is she awake?” I barely whisper the words, but the guys all shift to look closer for me.
“Yes.”
I nod silently in response before stepping towards the clanging stretcher that has now reached the sidewalk. “Mom?”
Her feminine sobs pick up at my voice and I step towards her again. My hand reaches out on instinct to touch hers, but she slaps me away.
“No! Stay away from me, you vile bitch!” She snarls, her voice cold and terrified. “This is all your fault! Your fault, you hear me?! Look what he did to me! Look at me!”
She continues shouting obscenities and insults at me. Stricken, I back away, my heart going ice cold in my chest. I should have expected this reaction, I really should have. I know exactly who my mother is and always has been. Yet, I can never stop myself from trying to cultivate that little seed of hope of a better relationship.
But as she screams and rages, the EMTs now pulling her away, I feel that seed whither and die. Its once tiny, yet strong little surface disintegrates into dust, lost in the winds of time and memories.
I don’t blame her for her reaction, don’t get me wrong. This time, she might actually have a reason to hate me. But the realization has finally set in that this isn’t my mother at all. She never has been. She was just the incubator to my creation, nothing more, nothing less.
