Chapter 3 - Rescuing Mom
While Sylvia shrieked hysterically about police brutality, demanding to call her phantom lawyers and threatening to sue the entire police department, I completely ignored her and bypassed the chaos in the foyer. I sprinted down the hallway to Mom’s room, my heart pounding in my chest. She was sitting rigidly on the edge of her bed, her hands clutching her woolen sweater, her eyes wide with fear and confusion as the sounds of shouting echoed through the house.
“Mom, it’s me,” I said softly, dropping to my knees right in front of her so she could see my face clearly. The APS investigator stepped in quietly behind me, accompanied by a team of paramedics carrying a stretcher and medical gear.
“Clara? What’s happening out there? Marcus is going to be so furious with me,” she whimpered, instinctively pulling her arms back, anticipating a blow that was never going to come again.
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“Marcus is never, ever going to hurt you again,” I promised, hot tears finally stinging the corners of my eyes. “He’s going away for a very long time, and he can’t touch you.”
The paramedics stepped forward with incredible gentleness. They wrapped a warm, heavy blanket around her trembling shoulders and guided her carefully onto the stretcher. As they wheeled her through the living room toward the front door, Marcus finally caught sight of us. He was pinned to the wall, his arrogant facade completely shattered, looking like a cornered, desperate animal. Mom didn’t even look in his direction; she just kept her eyes locked on me, finding the strength she had buried away for months.
