IDOI

So this is from a different POV than Freddie's and it's not current. It's about three or four days behind Freddie's, so I made it 3rd person past tense.

She woke up at exactly 6:30 every day. Today was no different. She slipped on a clean, white robe and headed to the bathroom. For two minutes, she brushed her teeth, making sure every crevice was scrubbed. She washed her face with 's Extra-Strong Cleansing Soap, the only soap that kills 100% percent of germs.

Then she headed toward the kitchen to start making breakfast for her son. A nice healthy breakfast completely void of fats, sugars, and artificial ingredients. Freddie might have disliked the bad tasting food, but that was understandable. He was only a child. He didn't know what it was like to see kids come into the hospital with serious cases of high blood pressure, obesity, or malnutrition. He might have thought she was crazy for being overly cautious, but she was willing to be criticized. She cared too much for him to do otherwise.

As she flipped the pancakes, she thought about how Freddie had been acting lately. She had noticed him spending a lot more time at home in his room. For the first couple days, it was nice. She thought he had realized how dangerous the outside world was and decided to be safe and stay indoors. But as the days turned into weeks, she got worried. He even rejected his acceptance to Stanford which made her angry to no end, but nevertheless, worried. Then after the first month was over, the dreams started.

The microphone she had hidden under his bed was only there for emergencies. So when she heard him shouting in the middle of the night, she jumped out of bed and was in his room in a flash. Expecting to see some type of wild animal attacking Freddie, she was surprised to see him twisting and turning under the covers. She strode over to his bedside and was about to wake him up when she heard a name in the middle of all the yells.

"Sam."

She gasped and retracted her hand, listening to the nearly incomprehensible gibberish that was streaming out of her son's mouth. She only caught a few words: "bully", "alone", "walls", "pain", and "leave".

And after this last word tumbled out of his mouth, Freddie fell deathly still. She stared at him for a few seconds before quickly running out of his room and shutting the door.

She didn't go back to sleep that night.

The next day, she talked to Spencer. She had never seen the artist so morose. He told her about her son and Sam and Carly's letter.

But he was wrong about one thing. In a slightly angry tone, he talked about how Freddie got what he finally wanted and how he must have been happy.

But she knew better.

Her attention returned to the pancakes. She decided three were enough for a growing boy so she plated them and moved to pouring the milk. She set everything up on their kitchen table and checked the clock. 7:24. If Freddiekins didn't wake up soon, he was going to be late to his English class at the Seattle Community College. She left the kitchen and began the short trip to his room.

She opened his door and walked in, expecting her son to be buried beneath the covers.

He wasn't. Instead there was a photo and an envelope on his pillow. With shaking hands, she picked up the picture.

It was of him and Carly. The edge was torn where Sam was supposed to be. She knew this because it was she that had taken the picture so many years ago.

Sam...wait. No...

She grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. Screw paper cuts. She feverishly read the letter, her eyes moving back and forth like a Kit-Cat clock.

When she finished, the paper dropped from her hands as she rushed to the phone.

Who cares about Sam . . .

Her baby was out there.

The man was reclining in his arm chair, feet on his desk, a bottle of mineral water in his hand. What? Not every private eye is an alcoholic.

The phone rang and he leaned forward to answer it, grumbling about his lack of a receptionist. Times were hard so he had to save as much as he could.

"Carl Hanratty, Private Eye."

"Hello? This is Marissa Benson. Remember me? You tracked down my son when he went missing in the park?"

"Ah, of course. By the way, did that Venezuelan doctor do the job?"

"Yes, yes. But Freddie had to get the chip removed. He took a Spanish class in school and they said it was cheating."

"What a shame. Well, what can I do for you?"

"Freddie went missing again."

"And you want me to find him?"

"Yes. I already notified the authorities, but they said they won't start looking until after the 48 hour mark. I wanted someone to get on it right away so I called you. If you find him, I'll pay you double what I paid last time."

Carl nearly fell from his seat.

"Really? Ok- then, alright, I'll do it," he rummaged through his desk for a pen. "When did you say he left?"

"Today. Sometime during the night."

He scribbled the information in his note pad.

"Any idea where he's headed?"

"No idea. But I know he's looking for a girl. Samantha Puckett. She went missing five months ago."

He muttered as he wrote it down. "Samantha...Puckett...missing...five..months... Alright then, any more information?"

"Find him. My baby needs his mommy."

She hung up.

Carl shook his head.

"Nut case."

Step 1: Read.

Step 2: Review.

Step 3: Rinse.

Step 4: Repeat.