Ethan was patiently waiting for his mother's return home. He had cleverly tracked her phone to the police station, so he was reassured of her safety, but he yearned to see her with his own eyes. His mother was his world, the most precious treasure he had, his only one. His love for her was unparalleled, incomparable to any other affection he could ever feel. "Mommy, I was waiting for you! What took you so long?" He rushed to her side, nearly desperate, the moment she stepped through the front door. Eagerly, he wrapped his small, but firm hands around her legs, clinging tightly to her, resting his head against them, and remained that way for a seemingly eternal moment. The heavy burden in Christine's heart felt even heavier. The longing to see her son after the harrowing incident was intense. She had been counting the seconds until she could return home to him. "I lost track of time while at the gym, my darling. I'm sorry!" She responded, masking the truth with a believable excuse.
Adorned in an alluring summer dress of olive hue, a belt accentuating her slender waist, Martha appeared both comfortable and chic. The fashionable outfit cast an air of confidence on its wearer. It was regrettable, however, that she was too insecure to acknowledge it. Many of her issues could have been mitigated, or perhaps would not have arisen at all, if she could only recognize her own value. Christine had always acknowledged Martha’s beauty, yet her own mother had infiltrated her thoughts so deeply, manipulating her as if she were a puppet. The stepsisters shared fleeting moments in the distant past when they got along rather well. They could have been friends, if not for the poisonous influence of a covetous, spiteful woman named Elenora who disrupted what might have become a genuine bond. Hunter started to feel agitated; he understood the importance Ethan placed on his classmates believing he was the boy’s father. Was Martha doing this intentionally? No, he couldn’t accept
Martha felt a lump forming in her throat as she fixed her gaze on the tablet’s screen. She had long accepted that her mother was without any sort of principles, but orchestrating such an act was well beyond anything she could have ever anticipated. Despite her mother's disgraceful actions, Martha's deep-seated animosity towards her stepsister remained strong. Thus, for the moment, her annoyance was aimed at the hitman who, for reasons she couldn't fathom, had failed. Had he not been promised a million dollars for his service? And where had her mother managed to procure such a sum? ‘Could this be why mother was celebrating the other day? But why would she have reveled prematurely, without knowing for certain that the hitman had accomplished his task?’ "Miss Martha, who is this charming little boy?" A reporter, a woman in her mid-thirties with a bob haircut, asked with an intrigued smile on her face. "You two seem quite close, is he a part of your family?" Chimed in another journalis
‘It’s probably enough for today,’ Christine told herself, as she assessed the situation and the growing restlessness of the children. “We’re getting hungry, when can we eat?” The plaintive voice of one of the children echoed. “I need to use the bathroom,” complained another, shuffling uncomfortably. “I must call my parents.” The voice of a slightly older child cut through the murmur. The kids were, rightfully, starting to grumble, expressing their basic needs. Addressing the crowd of reporters, she spoke in a soft, respectful tone, “This is an educational camping trip for the children, and I believe you’ve gathered sufficient footage at this location. It would be beneficial for us to start our planned activities now. So, if you could kindly wrap up your reporting for the day, we would greatly appreciate it.” Her words were gentle, politely brushing off their intrusive presence,
After skillfully dodging the bullet from Martha’s gun, Christine was on the verge of self-sabotaging. Why was she feeling so nervous that she momentarily lost sight of why she was there in the first place? Was the thought of sharing a tent with Hunter so unnerving that her son's well-being — the core reason for her presence — simply slipped from her mind? "It just seemed rather cramped, that's all," she said in a light, casual tone to mask her unease. "The arrangement was also booked by the school as part of the educational experience. Just as the children are learning to spend time away from the comforts of home, the chaperoning parents should, naturally, lead by example," the manager explained, still somewhat perplexed by her initial reaction. "Of course, you're absolutely right," Christine agreed. "I must be too tired to think straight." "If everything is settled, I'll take my leave," the manager said. "Tomorrow is going to be another full day for all of us." "Of course, we und
Initially, he had thought it was all a dream, yet the clarity of his recollections was now making him question that assumption. One after another, images from the previous night seeped into his consciousness. It was cold outside, so he should not have strolled to the tent, water dripping from his body, scantily clad in only a small towel. Such an act was ill-advised, yet he had indulged in it, hoping to draw a reaction from her, or at least leave an impression. However, fate had a different agenda, serving him a bitter dose of fever after he attempted to sleep on the cold, hard mat. An intense warmth radiated from his body, while simultaneous shivers racked his form. Consequently, Christine must have been stirred from her slumber. Vague memories of her checking his temperature and trying to keep his shivering at bay with her jacket trickled back to him. When this measure proved ineffective, she resorted to the primal method of body heat to soothe him. The plan was to lend her warmt
‘I must find a way to bring Mommy and Daddy closer! But how can I do this? My Mommy is incredibly stubborn.’ Ethan wracked his brain, earnestly searching for a solution that would unite his parents. Time was ticking away; they would have to depart from the camping site in just a few hours. The clock was against him, and he was painfully aware that opportunities like this were rare. An audacious idea began to form in his mind. It was risky and filled with peril. The very thought of it made his heart race with trepidation. However, his desperation propelled him forward. He cherished the moments when his classmates showered compliments about his parents, but deep within, he knew that he was perpetuating a façade. A dream that he was determined to transform into tangible reality. And if that meant venturing into the woods all by himself, evading his parents' watchful gaze in the hopes of them uniting to find him, then so be it. He had read that dire circumstances, where lives hang in t
It would be a vast understatement to say Christine was merely upset upon realizing Ethan had disappeared on purpose. She felt a whirlwind of emotions: anger, heartache, and an overwhelming sense of agony. The thought of her five-year-old son, lost and likely terrified in the shadowy depths of the forest, tugged relentlessly at her heartstrings. She pieced together his intentions quickly. He must've seen it as a golden chance to bring his parents together. Such a young boy shouldn't be burdened with creating opportunities or, even worse, risking his life for them. Childhood should be about carefree laughter and joy, not the weight of such schemes. "Don't blame yourself," Hunter softly interjected as they scoured the forest for any signs of Ethan. He extended his hand toward her, an offer of comfort and support. Gratefully, she took it, feeling more vulnerable than she had in a long while. “I think I understand what he was trying to do; it wasn’t hard to deduce, really. And don't blame