@dontbeahero; room au
Another morning. Or at least what Linnea could assume was morning. The sun was high overhead and she could hear the faint muffled sound of a bird singing somewhere outside. Taking one of the markers that was scattered across the tiny plastic table in the corner of the room, she added another tally to the wall. 2116. 2,116 days in that room. The thought made her want to die.
It’s a thought thats crossed her mind on more than one occasion, but as she sees the small little lump under the blankets on her twin sized bed begin to stir, she remembers why she wakes up every morning. Tiny feet pop out from under the covers, followed by arms flailing to escape the mountain of blankets that was piled on top of him. “Mommy!” Greyson groans, long hair falling forward into his face in the most massive case of bedhead known to mankind. “Bed is trying to eat me!” And she can’t help but laugh and sit down on the bed next to him, pulling the blankets back and hugging him tightly, peppering his face with kisses before pulling him out of the bed and setting him on the ground in one fell swoop.
“It’s a special day, you remember that, right baby?” she says, and she tries her best to hide the panic in her voice. It’s an important day, one they’ve been planning for over the past few weeks. Today, when Carter came to check up on the two of them, Greyson would make an escape. Today would be the day-- their escape. Linnea could feel herself losing her mind, she could feel herself forgetting the color of the sky and the feeling of wind against her skin, the sound of laughter around a dinner table-- things that her son had never known. He knew chair. Table. Bed. He knew room.
Room, when she wanted to give him the world.
“But mommy, I don’t want to,” he whined, and Linnea shook her head with vigor. “You have to baby. For me. For us. I promise, I promise it’ll all be okay,” she whispers to him, dropping to her knees and kissing his hair before she’s hearing the sound of keys turning in the lock and she’s pushing him off in the direction of the door and to his hiding spot, sitting back on the bed. Keys click in the lock, the door creaks open, boots thud against the concrete floor. She refuses to look up.
“Linnea. Food for the next three days.” A grocery bag drops on the floor and the boots come closer to where she’s sitting, he sits next to her on the bed. Rough hands on her lower back, one on her leg. “Kid’s in there?” he asks gruffly, motioning to the closet that had been converted into a bed for him. She nods, a small gesture, hardly noticeable, before he’s kissing her. She obliges for once, not making it too obvious-- but when she sees the same little feet that were just sticking out of the covers scampering out the door, she feels a wave of relief wash over her. She’d always known Greyson was her saving grace, but now he’d be the savior they both needed.
~
Greyson ran out the door and into the sunlight, immediately squinting his eyes as he stared at the bright spot in the sky in a moment of confusion before he remembered what his mother had told him- past the fence. Fence. She’d drawn him a picture, taught him what it looked like-- and there it was. Find a person. A lady walking down towards him, and he’s instantly grabbing the sleeve of her coat. Call the police. “Police,” he manages, fear in his eyes. “My mommy and I, we live there-” Not live, trapped. “We’re trapped there,” he corrects. “Police. Please. Police.” She’s instantly dialing the phone, getting the help they needed.
