Barbara was driving along the highway for a late-night drive. Home and work have been stressful lately, especially Jim. He's been sneaking out and coming home at late hours more often, covered in bruises, and not saying anything other than "he was just out with friends." What the hell was her son doing at night? What was he doing that made him have a limp for four weeks? Where did he suddenly have a nervous tic? And these didn't seem like they were coming from school. She's called the school hoping that it was just the school work, or maybe an accident happened during gym class, but nothing. Even Walter says that nothing out of the ordinary is happening to Jim in school. But she feels like he isn't telling the truth; he's hiding something. But Barbara can't put her finger on what exactly. So to let off some steam, she decided to take a drive around the beach, it was a habit she got when she was a teen, that only got more frequent during her college years, but has now become less common. By now she's memorized every building, street name, and light. And she slowly started to relax, her tense shoulders fell, and her grip on the steering wheel loosened. And she breathed a breath she didn't know as she was holding and her gaze slowly drifted away from the road, and she could barely make out a mound of seaweed on a small, secluded beach, which wasn't an uncommon sight. But something in the back of her mind was telling her that it was something else. " It's probably just some driftwood. " Barbara thought. Yet something at the back of her mind was telling her it wasn't seaweed or driftwood. Then she decided to pull over just to ease her thoughts. Barbara flipped on her blinker and made sure she eased her tires into the sand, put her car in park, and grabbed her phone for a flashlight. And as the frigid sea air hit her, she stepped out of her car, took slow casual strides, then started to take more cautious steps, then broke into a sprint and quickly dropped onto her knees quickly throwing all the debris out of the way. Her instincts were right. She didn't just find a pile of seaweed, she found an unconscious girl who looked to be 6 or 7 years old. Her brown skin was now pale and cold to the touch, her long black hair matted and tangled, with sand, shells, and sea grass and she had seaweed wrapped around her neck. The girl's clothes were a denim jumper dress with white and blue striped long sleeves that were now torn up and covered in dirt. Barbara immediately dragged her way from the water, unwrapping the seaweed and checking for a pulse. "Slow...low and slow. God, you're cold as ice .fuck ..it'll be ok, I'm here-I'm here" Barbara reassured the girl, who couldn't hear her. As Barbara was checking her vitals, she also started to check her arms and legs for cuts and scrapes. The girl's arms only had a few cuts, but on the girl's right leg was a huge gash on her ankle. Barbara fumbled for her phone and dialed 911.
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