Wire-Pulling Pt. 03 (End)

The roof of the hall was held by evenly distanced concrete pillars, and I could see wooden pallets leaning against the walls. The upper ten feet of the walls were actually windowpanes stretching the whole length of the hall, allowing some light to shine in. Lastly, about ten feet in front of us stood a table that was covered with a big tablecloth.

"Mom!" I whispered, though I noticed how much my throat hurt when I did, and she didn't even stir. There was no reaction from her whatsoever, but I couldn't see any blood or bruises on her, so I hoped she was just knocked out by the same stuff they injected me with.

"Well, did we have a nice rest?" I heard a male voice come from behind me. It gave me a good scare as it sounded like whoever the voice belonged to stood right behind my back. The restraints stopped me from turning, though. "Don't struggle too much, young Paul. We have a long day ahead of us, and I don't want you to pass out from exhaustion. At least not yet."

Finally, the man stepped around me, allowing me to get a good look at him. I recognized that face!

"You're the guy from the forest cabin!" I rasped. "That Russian's Boss!"

Instead of answering, he simply nodded before turning towards the cloth-covered table. He grabbed the tablecloth and pulled it back, revealing what he had prepared for us. First, there was some kind of electro-shocker that was connected to a car battery. Right next to that lay a pair of brace knuckles. And, right next to that, came the usual clutter I've seen in every bad action movie ever: Scalpel, bolt cutters, and a rusty metal saw. I just hoped this guy had the same mindset as Tim, and those tools' purpose was to scare me instead of actually being used on me.

I also quickly learned that I had very little in common with the heroes in those movies, because the sight of that table in combination with my current situation did affect me. My eyes darted over to Mom, whose head was still slumped down with her chin pressed to her chest. But, for a split second, I could see her eyes open slightly as she took a quick glance at the guy. Seeing him with his back to her, she looked back down, and her head started making minute movements. She was rubbing her chin across her sternum.

Suddenly, I understood what she was doing. She was pressing her chin against the GPS bracelet I had given her! She was trying to press the button and let my colleagues know where we were!

Hope resurfaced in my thoughts. Wherever we were being held captive, it couldn't have been that far away from where the car crashed into us. After all, there was still light coming through those windowpanes, and it was the beginning of the afternoon when we left Doctor Walker's office. And, if the automatic crash detection in our car did its job, our guys and the police would've been alerted before I tried to resist our abductors. Consequently, help was on its way and would surely arrive any minute now! We just needed to hold out a little longer.

That hope was put to the test when the guy calmly grabbed the electro-shocker with his left before walking towards me. And then he stood there, watching me with a neutral expression. For a good twenty seconds, he just stared, seemingly assessing the level of nervousness on my face. Then, suddenly, he extended his arm, pressed the shocker right into the crease in between my neck and right shoulder, and pressed the trigger.

I couldn't even scream. It felt like the worst cramp imaginable as my head erratically quaked from the electrical charge stimulating the muscles in that area. At the same time, my right arm mirrored my head's movements, though thanks to the zip-tie restraining my broken hand, it couldn't flail around like it wanted. It just hurt! By the time he finally let go, I had tears in my eyes and my neck felt like the muscles had ruptured.

"Well, was that good? You like it?" he mocked once I started breathing again, before raising the apparatus to his face to inspect it. "Made it myself."

"The hell do you want!?" I rasped.

"Don't tell me you're already done resisting!? We haven't even started yet!"

His voice held a touch of madness as he commented on my weak will. It was irritating. What the hell was this guy's problem with me? I didn't even know him! I thought he was coming to get rid of Mom and me, so why was he now wasting time torturing me?

"Yeah! I really don't want to continue this. So, why don't you just tell me what you want to know?"

"What if I don't want to know anything? What if I just want to thank you for ruining my career? For screwing up my retirement plans after you just HAD to stick your nose where it didn't belong?" He turned around and walked back to the table, where he threw the shocker to the table and grabbed the scalpel instead. "But I guess I should give you a chance. There is something you could tell me that would make me stop all this. How much did you actually find out about us?"

I was confused.

"What? I don't even know who the hell you are, man! I don't know why you sent your Russian friend to pick me up, but..."

Two quick steps were all it took for the guy to stand directly in front of me. Before I could even blink, the scalpel's head had sunk into my left thigh. Now I screamed. He didn't push it in any deeper, so the cut was shallow, but it still had the desired effect.

"NO!" Mom suddenly screamed at him. "Leave him alone! Please! Don't hurt him! Let him go!"

Her voice was a desperate plea as her body quivered and thick tears ran down her face. It must have taken everything out of her to stay quiet until now, especially while he used the shocker on me.

"DON'T TRY TO LIE, BOY!" he screamed right at my face after grabbing a fist full of my hair to hold my head still.

The moment he called me 'Boy', something in my mind shifted, and an old and familiar resignation settled in. I was powerless again, bound to that chair, unable to move anything but my head, which he now had a hold on, stopping me from even turning my face away.

"You're the one who ruined this for me," he continued to snarl. "Now you're gonna tell me EVERYTHING you have on us, or..."

With a quick flick of his wrist, the scalpel left my thigh and flew across my cheek, leaving a cut that immediately started leaking. But I simply didn't know anything I could tell him. That was a real problem! I could see the disapproval on his face. Suddenly, though, his eyes shifted to the side and fixated on Mom.

"Ms. Anderson! So, you were awake!" The guy said before shifting his gaze back to me. Though, the moment he did, he smiled at the panic he found in my eyes and nodded at me. "Well. Maybe this will be a more effective incentive for you to start talking," he snarled.

He let go of my hair as he stood straight again, just to then move towards Mom. I watched in horror as his hand wrapped around her throat and I heard her choke as she struggled against his hold. Suddenly, my mind went blank. I saw his mouth move but the only thing I heard was the blood rushing through my head as my eyes remained transfixed on his hand tightening around Mom's airways. Rage bubbled up inside me.

He was going to hurt Mom again! He WAS hurting Mom again!

There was no pain in my body anymore. As if in a trance, I stood up. The zip ties couldn't hold me. As I relentlessly raised my body and angled my arms to push me out of this chair, the tie binding my right wrist to the armrest just snapped right off as I didn't care about the pain anymore. The ties holding my feet to the chair's legs did the same as I took my first step towards him.

His brows rose and his eyes widened in surprise upon seeing this, but then narrowed in determination as he pointed the scalpel at me. The chair was now bound solely to my left wrist. Screaming out my fury over him laying his hands on my mother, I grabbed the armrest with my left and swung the thing against him, causing him to jump away from Mom. The attack had knocked the scalpel out of his hand, but it didn't do any damage to his body.

This was unacceptable. He hurt Mom. I would not allow him to hurt her again! He had to pay! He had to die!

As best as my busted knee allowed, I came after him, wildly swinging the damn chair until the last zip tie snapped as well and the whole thing flew at him. However, it didn't bother him nearly as much as I had hoped and now the distance between us was even greater. He was out of my reach and could move quicker than me. I had no chance to take him down if I continued using nothing but my bare hands. And that's when I saw the discarded scalpel on the ground.

As quickly as I could, I picked it up before taking a defensive stance so, If he wanted to get to Mom again, he'd have to get past me first. If I couldn't reach him, I'd just let him come to me. But he didn't. He just let out an annoyed groan before reaching behind his back and pulling out a gun. My gun.

"Well, this was fun, Paul. But, I guess, if you're acting like that, it's safe to say that you really don't know much about us, in which case you're more trouble than you're worth. If only you would have left that damn safe house two days ago, little Paul, I might would've let you two live. But now it's too late. I don't need anyone here who could identify me. But don't worry, I won't let your mother watch you die."

With that, his hand jumped to the right as he pointed the gun at Mom.

Once again, I acted without thinking. I leaped right at him with my arms outstretched, in a desperate move to shield Mom from him. And then I saw the muzzle fire just before I heard the shot. Surprisingly, there was absolutely no pain. It felt like I took the mother of all punches to my chest... but no pain whatsoever. Though, hearing Mom's frantic screaming burned in my ears.

Just as I hit the ground, all the doors leading into the hall burst open and a dozen people, looking like a damn SWAT team, flooded in. As soon as the guy turned and pointed the gun at whatever had caused the commotion, his chest exploded in a mist of red as, from three different angles, bullets ripped through his body.

I could still hear Mom's frantic pleas when I managed to roll onto my back, but I could barely take a breath. Every time I tried, I did get some air, but I also heard a gurgling, sucking noise emanating from the hole in my chest. I tried to turn my head towards Mom, but even that was impossible as the muscles in my neck, after being hit with the electro shocker, refused to function properly. I knew I was done for. But I still wanted to see her. I needed to know that she was okay. I needed to know that I didn't let him hurt her again. But, instead of finally finding Mom, Bill's wrinkled face suddenly filled my vision as he called out to me, telling me to stay put, and ripping my shirt apart.

"Mom!" I rasped weakly. "How's..."

"She's fine! Don't you worry about her. Just hold on 'till the medic comes in," he said quickly, now pressing the heel of his hand onto my chest wound.

I didn't even try to give him an answer. Instead, I just smiled in response, realizing that I finally did it. I failed as a child but, this time, I protected her. Slowly, as the relief washed through my body and my muscles relaxed, my vision darkened. And, for the last time, like every time one of my nightmares had ended, I heard Mom scream my name.

To my surprise, however, the next thing I saw when opening my eyes, was a plain, white ceiling instead of the tilted hall ceiling. And I found my sluggish and heavy body lying on a rather comfortable bed instead of the cold and hard concrete floor. I was weak and thirsty, but there was no pain whatsoever. Then, I noticed that slow but incessant beeping noise that had pulled me out of my slumber, and finally connected the dots, realizing that I was in a hospital room.

When I looked down at myself, I realized that something was sticking out of my chest. In my half-asleep daze, this confused me more than it concerned me. My first impulse was to reach up and probe the thing, but I couldn't. My hands were secured to the rails on either side of my bed! Now this quickly woke me up.

Looking around, I realized that the room I was in was rather small. Just big enough for the bed I was lying in and the medical monitor, and it didn't even have a proper door. It just had a drawn-shut curtain at one end, shielding me from curious looks. However, my eyes soon settled on Mom, who was half sitting, and half lying, in an armchair that seemed like it was crammed in there at the end of my bed. She had her legs folded up underneath herself, her wrists were wrapped in thin bandages while resting on her lap, and her head leaned against one of the protruding side cushions attached to the chair's backrest. She looked peaceful as she slept.

And I immediately understood that something in our relationship, as well as something in me, had fundamentally changed.

Waking up in a hospital room, just to find my mother with some kind of injury next to me, fallen asleep while waiting for me to wake up, was the kind of situation I had experienced multiple times in my youth. Though, while this would have filled me with resentment towards her in my youth, and probably would have filled me with dread had it happened just a week earlier... Now, all I could think about was just how peaceful she looked as she slept in that chair. Because there was no Dick waiting for us once I got my release papers. There was no despairing over having to return to that house. There was no wondering how long it would be before I was sent back to the hospital.

I knew we were safe now.

So, enjoying the calmness I felt despite finding myself in the ICU of some hospital, while bound to a bed for reasons unknown, I just watched her sleep with a contented smile on my face. It didn't take long, though. After what felt like a mere two minutes, the curtain was drawn back by a stressed-looking nurse, who instantly picked up on my being awake.

"Good morning," I whispered before turning my gaze back to Mom, hoping the nurse would pick up on me not wanting to wake the woman in the armchair.

It worked. The nurse followed my gaze and a small grin appeared on her face before she walked up to my bed and checked the monitor.

"She's been sitting in that chair since you got assigned this bed," she whispered, still grinning. "We even threatened to call security since the ICU isn't exactly the place for visitors, but she wouldn't budge. And, somehow, she managed to convince administration to let her stay."

"Really?" I asked in wonder. I didn't doubt that Mom would want to stay close to me, but the part about her picking a fight with someone did surprise me.

"Yeah, really. Well, I have a little one myself," she quietly giggled upon seeing the look I shot her. "To us, you'll always stay our little ones. Nothing you can do about that. So, I understand where she's coming from."

I doubted that part. Nonetheless, it still made me happy to hear.

"If you say so," I chuckled. "But, uh, why am I restrained?"

"Oh, yes, let me take those off. The bullet you caught caused some damage to your left lung. Now, don't you worry," she quickly added. "It was very much manageable. But the doctor placed a tube in your chest to allow any build-up fluids to drain. Most patients, when waking up and finding something stuck to their body, try to grab and yank it out."

"Wow. I'd never do something stupid like that," I assured her with audible sarcasm in my voice. Going by the look she gave me, she understood that I had done just that when I woke up myself. However, I also noticed how I really didn't care about learning that some tube was stuck in my chest. "I'll remember not to mess with it."

"Good. We expected you to wake up around this time, so the doctor should be around soon."

And, with those words, she turned to leave the 'room' I was in. Though, as my eyes followed her on her way out, Mom entered my field of vision, and I jumped a little when I noticed her being fully awake and watching me with big eyes.

Without warning, she jumped out of the chair, ran around the bed, and clutched my hand with surprising force with an almost panicking expression, unable to hold eye contact for too long as her eyes jumped between my face and the hand she was holding onto. She didn't say anything. It seemed like she was trying to find the resolve to speak up, but it proved to be rather hard.

"Mom," I finally took the initiative. "What's up?"

Her eyes jumped a little more before she took a small breath and spoke in an even smaller voice.

"Are... are you okay?"

"Yes?" I answered truthfully but unsure where this was going.

"Paulie... I'm..." She paused as her bottom lip started quivering. "I'm so sorry, Son."

"What are you apologizing for?" I blinked, confused. "And what's with the switch to calling me 'Son' again!?" I thought to myself.

"I just... I don't know why you would even do this for me anymore. Why would you jump in front of me? Why would you take a bullet for someone like me?"

By the end, she started openly crying, though she absolutely refused to let go of my hand. She just shook in her sobs while letting her tears fall freely.

The way she phrased that shocked me. I had thought we moved beyond this damn self-degradation of hers. As I watched her cry, I felt the urge to hug and reassure her, but, remembering the tube in my chest, I realized that a hug would be a bad idea. I wrecked my brain what could have caused her to react like this. And, suddenly, it clicked. The way she switched to calling me 'Son', right after starting out by calling me 'Paulie', told me everything I needed to know.

This whole damn ordeal had happened right after our first therapy session. The session where Doctor Walker had laid the groundwork for her aversion therapy. Mom must have been in despair after being forcefully confronted with the consequences of her submission to Dick, and how I suffered from my attempts to help her and my inability to go through with it. And just then, right when her head was filled with those thoughts and memories, I got shot trying to protect her. There was no telling what kind of shock that must have been to her system. But it certainly explained how she was able to defy hospital security so vehemently.

And I grinned.

"Mom." I waited for her to finally look at me, and then continued in a stern voice. "I did it because you're my mother, I love you, and I care about you. If I had to do it again, I would without a second's hesitation. And I already told you that I don't like the way you put yourself down. Besides, as I see it, the only reason we were saved that quickly is because of you."

As I said that last part, I reached up and touched the heart-shaped pendant of the GPS necklace that still hung around her neck. It had the effect I was hoping for. There was a fifty-fifty chance she would either break down and release her bottled-up feelings, or she would listen to my command. And she didn't break down. Instead, her sobbing stopped as she looked at me with big eyes. Quickly, a small, insecure smile spread her lips, her back straightened itself out, and her shoulders lost some of their slump.

"I love you too, Paulie," she said with a still somewhat insecure smile. Though, now, it looked more like it was wavering out of shyness than insecurity.

"I know. And I'm glad you do because I'm gonna need someone to take care of me for a while."

"Of course! I will always look after you, Paulie! I will do everything you need. I promise!" Her head bobbed up and down as she responded with a disturbingly eager nod, though it was accompanied by a bright smile upon being presented with the opportunity. This, in turn, caused me to remember what Doctor Walker had recommended before asking Mom to join us in the therapy session.