> A figure sat silently crouched in the dark clutching a torn piece of
> something. She had been there for hours, not moving, not speaking, almost
> not even breathing. The clock on the nightstand read 1:19 a.m. The
> television was on, but the screen showed nothing but white static. The
> curtains were closed. Clothes lay strewn on the bed and on the floor
leaving
> a trail to the door like breadcrumbs. The only sign the figure was alive
was
> the hazel eyes that peered out into the dark. However, they were glazed
not
> focusing on anything or anyone.
>
> She just wanted the pain to go away. She had been wrong to return home, to
> the Legacy. Sloan had been right. She had not healed and even with time
the
> hate she had shared with him had dissolved into mere memories of a life
past.
> She no longer cared and felt herself wanting to slip further into the
void
> to listen to the voices of those past, Christian, Derek's father, Rachel's
> husband. . . even Philip.
>
> Ria knew Philip was okay but the picture at the hospital had given her
pause
> to think. He could have died and Derek had been right to chastise her for
her
> foolish behavior. Maybe, just because she was not sure she wanted to live,
> she had been sure no one else would care that much for their own. It had
> happened again. Ria was slipping and she did not know how to get up.
~Help
> me~ her mind screamed feebly. She was paralysed and did not know how to
> move. The voices would disappear eventually.
>
> A phone rang in the distance gradually getting louder. Rianne Marshall
did
> not flinch or turn her head. ~help me!~
>
Derek had finally made it to bed after making sure the new Legacy member was
shown to her room. The house was pretty quiet, he supposed everyone was as
exhausted as he was and didn't give it or anything else another thought as
she drifted off into a deep sleep, which lasted for only a few hours.
Visions began to disturb his peaceful slumber. It all started as a memory
of talking to Ria on the cell phone about Philip. Except this time he could
see her and actually saw her pull into herself slightly. The flashes
continued, showing him her suddenly departure, and then finally the shadowy
figure sitting alone and dejected. It wasn't these visions themselves that
woke Derek though. It was her cries for help, which seemed as loud as
cannon fire in his ears. The precept sat bolt upright in bed, shaking his
head slightly to clear it, yet the cries still echoed there momentarily. He
reached for the phone on his bedside table and frantically dialed Ria's cell
phone number. It rang, but no one answered. Taking the phone with him, he
jumped out of bed pulling on his robe and hurried out of the room. He
pounded on Nick's door to rouse him, "I need you to track a cell phone," he
called urgently.
Derek
