Sasha cut the call and let out a sigh. She walked out of the bathroom looking desolate as she thought of the woman in room 067. She had finally improved immensely for the first since her admission there. The first few months had been hell with her trying to escape with only one name on her chapped lips. Jonah.
But no one let her know of her son or his whereabouts. Until she finally saw her son two weeks ago, on the tabloids. She became calm and only wrote letters to him. Taking her medication and eventually started socializing with other patients.
Getting to her table to face the piles of letters she collected and yet never sent. She thought of her own son, he needed the money the couple would pay her. She called the old woman to see if maybe just maybe her daughter's situation would let her weaver. Yet there was no change in plans
She picked up one of the numerous white envelopes on her otherwise empty table. She had stop incinerating them by the fifth letter. The guilt couldn't let her do so. Opening it up and pulling the sheet out of its cladding. She sat down to read its contents.
🎄🎄🎄🎄
Human trafficking and child pornography would warrant Jonah's reaction. The thought of a middle-aged adult watching a video of Jonah being stripped and beaten for sexual gratification made Sarah lose further faith in humanity. And to had salt to injury his demented mother had been in on it too.
She had only kept Jonah to pay for drugs while her friends and their connections used Jonah for their sinister deeds.
But Sarah felt uneasy with the appearance of Jonah's 'family'. Something seemed off. And what did Mr Harper mean by 'make it up to you'. Were they planning on catching the perpetrators? Why were the Douglas' so dismissive of their daughter's existence. Many thoughts bothered her psyche.
Even two weeks after the gathering, she had not heard from Jonah which made her worried. Sitting in her office, looking through paperwork as the children played outside. Her phone rang out its usual tone. She glanced at her screen to see the caller ID as Jonah. Immediately, she picked up her phone, even almost tapping the "end call" button but luckily tapped the right option.
"Jonah!" she exclaimed expatriated
"It's okay, just called to tell you I'm good." a relaxed voice said from the other end.
"But you didn't..."
"Knowing you, I figured you'd be worried already." he cut her short.
Of course, she was worried, he was her responsibility even if he had a new place to live. Not to talk about the events of the previous week which made her anxiety all the more justifiable.
"And Sarah?" he added
"Um," biting her nails out of habit.
"I am on my way with dad to his place, I am going to have dinner with the rest."
Dad? The rest? dinner? what was he talking about? he met them last week for the first time in his life. Things were going too fast.
"Sarah, are you still there?
"Yes, yes." what was she going to say? they were his family after all. She remembered the odd discussion they all had before they all went to the administrator's office for the major conversation.
Despite her advice of caution when the visitors first arrived that a DNA test was necessary. Jonah had countered, certain, that they were his family.
His desire to be wanted, needed and to belong to a group of people. His people, a family had overwhelmed him so much had let his guard down.
"Did you hear me?" his voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Yeah," unsure of how to put what she was about to ask, she paused but Jonah read her mind through her silence.
"We had a DNA test, he is my dad."
"Ok, but you said that..." She pressed on.
"About him making it up to me?"
"Yes, Jonah you should..."
"He already made it up to me." Again cutting her short with more haste in his tone.
"But, how? when did..."
"That's a family matter," he said like he had been practising.
It stung. She unconsciously rubbed her chest physically.
"Goodbye, Sarah." There was a tone of finality in the way he said it.
Then the line went dead. It was the loud beep that brought her out of her daze.
🎄🎄🎄🎄
Jonah kept his phone in the glove compartment.
"Dad?"
"Yes, son?" Charles behind the wheel asked with an uncertain smile on his face.
"How far is it?"
"Not very far, just fifteen more minutes."
"Good." he simply said as a satisfied smile crept up his face.
Charles mentally cringed, not at the creepy smile on his son's face but at the sound of the muffled screaming of the bounded man in the truck of the car.