Chapter 4 - The Mirror's Edge
The apartment felt like a tomb.
The wind howled through the broken window, tossing the navy-blue cardigan across the floor.
"He can't walk," Ethan sobbed, falling to his knees.
"He’s too weak. He was connected to the IV."
I looked at the floor.
There were drops of blood on the glass shards.
But they weren't Noah’s.
The IV pole was lying on the bed, the needle neatly removed.
"He didn't struggle," I said, my voice dead and cold.
"He went with her."
"Because he still thinks I'm the monster, Ethan."
"He thinks she is the one who came to save him."
I looked at the shattered window.
There was a fire escape right outside.
I didn't think. I didn't wait for Ethan.
I climbed out onto the metal grating.
The city was a blur of gray and brown.
Below me, the alleyway was narrow and filled with shadows.
I saw a flash of yellow.
Noah’s pajamas.
He was being carried by a figure in a dark trench coat.
My coat.
"Stop!" I screamed.
The figure stopped.
Slowly, she turned around.
The streetlights caught her face.
It was like looking into a mirror that only reflected my worst nightmares.
She had my eyes. My nose. My mouth.
But her expression was wrong.
It was too still. Too perfect.
She held Noah against her chest.
He was limp, his eyes closed, his head resting on her shoulder.
He looked like he was finally at peace.
"He’s my son," I yelled, my voice breaking.
"Give him back!"
The woman smiled.
It wasn't a human smile.
It didn't reach her eyes.
"He was your son," she said.
Her voice was an exact replica of mine.
Every inflection. Every tone.
"But you left."
"You went to Dallas."
"You chose the career. You chose the office."
"I chose him."
"I was here for the nightmares."
"I was here for the fever."
"I am the mother he needs."
She took a step back into the shadows of the alley.
"You’re just the woman with the grocery bags."
I climbed down the fire escape, my hands burning on the cold metal.
I hit the ground and ran toward them.
"I’ll call the police!" I shouted.
"Tell them what?" she laughed.
"Tell them that Sarah Miller is kidnapping Sarah Miller?"
"Who do you think they’ll believe?"
"The woman who has been here for four months?"
"Or the woman who just showed up with a bag of cinnamon rolls?"
She pulled a small syringe from her pocket—the same kind I’d seen on the nightstand.
"He’s tired, Sarah."
"He just wants to go home."
She turned and ran deeper into the maze of Lakeview alleys.
I followed her, my heart bursting in my chest.
I knew these streets.
I had lived here for twenty years.
I knew that this alley ended in a dead-end behind the old warehouse.
She didn't.
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She was playing the script, but she didn't know the stage.
***
