Erickstrulove- I'm sorry I couldn't help it. I like killing off characters. And no I won't kill of Sammy. Now out him through hell? That's a different story.

Crazyrussiangal- Glad you're lovin it. Yeah I was kinda sorry about Greg too but I'm trying to keep my numbers of characters down. Soon I'll have Sammy, Mor, Jarod, Will, Alley, Gemini, All fourteen of the Black Files, Sam future wife, and loads others.

Jill- The first part of this chapter is for you.


CHAPTER 10

A SECOND IS ALL IT TAKES


December 19, 1967

12:00pm

Blue Cove Delaware

The Centre

A small boy with dark hair and chocolate brown eyes stared up at the ceiling of his cell- what the other's called a room. His arms were folded behind his head as he laid on his back, his body was stretched out so that his feet touched the end of the cot. He would soon need a new bed. He had grown so much over the past year that the cuffs of his pants stopped just above his ankles. If he stretched his arms out his sleeves were three inches shy of his wrist.

At that moment Jarod Michael Russell had turned eight years old. Yet he did not know it. It was probably a good thing that he didn't. All birthdays meant at the Centre was another year away from his parents. He barely remembered them anymore. Nor after four years of being kept inside could he remember the feel of the sun on his face, rain falling on to his arm, wind blowing his hair, and other things that were never missed until they were taken.

Jarod didn't hate his life at the Centre but he was lonely. He missed being around people. In his dreams he would have flashes of two children, a boy and a girl. He supposed that once upon a time they might have been his friends.

Friends didn't exist at the Centre. There was Jaord, Sydney, the doctors and, the occasional Sweepers, as far as the young pretender was concerned. Friends was a word from his old life, along with snow, sun, wind, rain, and maybe -God he hoped not- mom and dad.

Sydney had told Jarod that, Jarod was a special boy and that was why his parents had sent him to the Centre. But it had been so long since Jarod had seen them. Ages. Every now and then Jarod would ask Sydney when he could see his parents. Sydney reply was all ways the same. Soon. It was a word Jarod was coming to dread. Jarod was being to think that soon meant never.

As he laid on his back staring up at the ceiling Jarod wondered if he had done something wrong. Had he been a bad boy, and not a special boy as Sydney had said. Had he done something so terrible that his parents could no longer stand the sight of him. Maybe the Centre was a place where parents sent their bad children.

But Jarod couldn't remember doing anything bad. And Sydney didn't treat Jarod as though he was a bad child. But maybe Jaord had found a way to forget what he had done. Jaord was sure that if he could become a different person then surely he could repress memories of the horrible thing he had done to end up in the Centre.

Jarod sat up and shook his head of such thoughts. His heart was racing at the thought he had done something so terrible that his parents had sent him to the Centre.

"I'm a good boy. My parents love me. I'm a special boy. That's why I'm here. I do special things that other people can't do. I do good things, not bad things," Jaord repeated over and over.

He eventually fell asleep. As Jaord slept he dreamt of a little girl with blue eyes. The two of them were in a tree he was holding on to the strap of her overalls, as she dangled ten feet off the ground.

"Don't let me go Jar," She cried, tears streaming down her angelic face. But the strap of the blue eyed girl's overalls snapped and she fell.

"Mor," Jarod mumbled in his sleep his voice laced with misery, tears streaking his face.. "Mor come back. I didn't mean to let you go."


"I thought you said he would forget about them," Mr. Parker said staring grumpily at the video feed coming form Jarod's room.

"The reeducation process is not perfect. His subconscious retains the memories of the other two, but consciously he does not remember them.," Raines replied. "What of the Grey boy?"

"Another month."

"They've been snooping in things that does not concern them," Raines hissed. "If they keep it up they will discover the truth about Jarod, and then it will only be a matter of time before they learn of our intentions for their son."

"I said another month and that's final," Mr. Parker said.


January 12, 1967

3:23am

Blue Cove Delaware

Grey Family Home

It had been a good day, that was the one thing Samuel James Grey would always remember. He had woken up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. It was his favorite smell. Sammy ate five of his mother's pancakes drenched in maple syrup. Had he known it would be the last time he would eat them he would have eaten more.

His father kissed Sammy and his mother goodbye and then headed off to work. Elizabeth then drove Sammy to Catherine's were the two woman then set off for work. Emma dropped Mor (who had just turned seven) and Sammy (who was six and a half) off at school. The teacher had the flu so the children had a sub for the day. The children were allowed to spend the day playing games, and painting.

Emma then picked the children up from school and had fresh baked peanut butter cookies along side a tall glass of milk set out for Sammy and Mor. Elizabeth came around six to pick up Sammy. For dinner there was lasagna, Sammy's favorite dinner food. Had he notice the worried looks on his parents' faces he may have realized that something was wrong.

When it was time for bed his father tucked him in and read him the first chapter of Treasure Island. Sammy fell asleep with a smile and his face. He would wake up screaming.


At a little after two in the morning gunshots were fired. Sammy woke up yelling for his parents. They didn't answer. Sammy then heard voices. Voices that weren't his parents. Scared Sammy hid himself in the closet. An hour later Sammy believed it to be safe. Quietly he made his way out of the closet and to his parents' bedroom. Sammy opened the door and screamed again.

The bed was soaked in blood. His father's face was completely gone. Sammy ran out of the room, flew down the stairs and out the house. In his bare feet and flannel pajamas he ran the seven blocks to Mor's house tears streaming down his face. He slammed his fist against the oak door yelling for help. He beat against the door so hard for so long that his fist began to bleed.

Catherine opened the door and saw Sammy standing in a foot of snow shivering tears frozen on his tiny face. His lips were beginning to turn blue as were his fingers yet she could not tell because of the blood that was slowly oozing from his knuckles. Catherine picked up Sammy and closed the door behind her.

"Richard run a hot tub of water quickly he's freezing.' Catherine directed her husband. Mr. Parker who had been making his way down the stairs ran back up to do as Catherine instructed.

"Sammy baby what happened?" Catherine asked as she held the little boy in her arms. Sammy tried to speak but couldn't he then began to sob in Catherine's arms. Catherine did her best to comfort the boy as she carried him to the bathroom.

red red red everywhere

"Richard go to Allen's house and check on him and Liz." Catherine said frantically as she helped Sammy out of his clothes and into the tub. Mr. Parker sat off to Sammy's house.

Meanwhile Catherine did her best to warm Sammy up. After his lips and fingers and toes had regained their usual coloring she pulled him out of the tub. And helped him into a pair of his pajamas he had incase he needed to stay the night at Catherine's house. She then put peroxided one his injured knuckles and bandaged them.

Sammy still had yet to speak, and he didn't need to. Catherine's inner sense had told her what happened.

red blood everywhere dead now gone now little boy all alone

She pulled Sammy into her arms and promised him that she would make everything alright. Sammy once again began to cry. After crying himself to sleep Catherine placed Sammy in bed next to Mor.


Mr. Parker called Catherine a short while later confirming her beliefs, that Allen and Elizabeth were indeed dead. Catherine hung up the phone and wept for her friends and the little boy who laid sleeping upstairs.

"Momma." Mor said softly entering the kitchen. "What's goin' on why's Sammy here and why are you cryin'?"

"Come her baby." Catherine said lifting her daughter up and siting Mor in Catherine's lap. "Sammy's momma and daddy... died... Sammy's going to stay with us now. And he's going to need you more than ever. Can you be there for him?"

"I'll always be there for Sammy. I'm never letting him go and he's never letting me go we promised each other," Mor replied. "He's really my brother now?"

"Yes I susspose Sammy is your brother now" Catherine replied

"How... how did Auntie Liz and Uncle Allen die, Momma?"

"I don't know baby."

"Are you gonna die to Momma?" Mor asked scared.

"We all die someday baby. And yes I will die but I promise you I'll always be with you."

"I don't want you t' die." Mor cried. "I don't want Sammy, or Daddy to die and be gone either. And I don't want Auntie Liz or Uncle Allen to be dead or Gregory to be dead or Jar to be gone. Why can't they all come back?"

"Hush now baby. We need to be strong now for Sammy." Catherine said rocking her daughter. Mor soon feel asleep in her mother's arms. Catherine returned her daughter to her bed where Sammy also slept. Catherine sat in the rocking chair that decorated Mor's room and watched the two children sleep well on into the morning. She refused to go to bed even after her husband pleaded with her. Because on some level she knew that her husband played a part in Allen and Elizabeth's deaths. And Catherine could not share a bed with the monster her husband was on the way to becoming.


January 12, 1967

9:16am

Blue Cove Delaware

Parker Manor

Sammy awoke to a weight on his chest. He opened his eye's and saw that Mor was using him as a pillow. Her face was tear streaked and she was sucking her thumb, a habit she had quit ages ago. Sammy wondered why Mor had been crying and then he wondered why Mor was at his house. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He sat up gasping, startling Mor.

Sammy knew why he was there. His parents were dead. They were gone. And in that moment Sammy realized that never again would he wake up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. Never again would his father toss him up in the air and catch him. Never again would he fall asleep in his mother's lap as he breathed in her smell. In a split second his life, all he knew, all he cherished, had been cruelly ripped away from him.

Sammy began to cry. For how long he did not know. It may have been seconds or hours before he realized that Mor was holding him. Telling him that she was here and she wasn't letting him go. Sammy fell asleep in Mor's arms exhausted from his ordeal. Mor too returned to slumber. The two children had their hands intertwined, Mor once again resting her head on Sammy's chest.


Sammy woke up again around twelve. He gently eased Mor off of his chest and quietly padded across the floor to the window seat across from the bed. He sat on the window seat and stared out the window watching the snow fall. He didn't here Mor come up behind him, but he felt her presence. After five years of constantly being around one another the two had formed a bond. They always knew when the other was near, and rarely need to use words to know how the other was feeling or what they were thinking.

Mor climbed up next to Sammy and took his hand in her own. She gasped

blood so much blood

and quickly recovered shaking her head of the whispers. Sammy had yet to look at her. He couldn't. Mor understood that so she sat next to him leaning her head on his shoulder as she held his hand and this time the voices didn't come. The two stared out the window and watched the snow fall for quite sometime until Catherine entered the room.

Catherine looked at the two children and her heart went out to them. They were so young and had gone through so much. The loss of two friends and now Sammy's parents who were like a second set of parents to Mor.

"Sammy, Morgan are you two hungry? I made some tomato soup and grilled cheese." Catherine said walking over to the two children. Mor looked up at her mother, Sammy looked down at his hand in Mor's as though it were the most intriguing thing in the world.

"Come on Sammy you need to eat." Mor said. Sammy made no gesture to move. "I'm not gonna eat unless you do." Mor said crossing her arms over her chest. Sammy wouldn't want for Mor to be hungry. It was a low blow and Mor knew it. Sammy wouldn't want for Mor to be hungry. So Sammy got up form the window seat and followed Catherine into the kitchen, Mor held his hand on the way there.

Sammy stared at his bowl of soup and the sandwich next to it. He suddenly shoved away the bowl unable to look at the soup. He loved tomato soup but the redness of it reminded him so much of the blood. God there was so much blood. It was everywhere. And his father's face, or what remained of it. It was as though a volcano decided to erupt in the middle of his face.

Sammy squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the images. It was no help. He could still see the look of horror that would be forever imprinted upon his mother's face. And the blood. Oh dear God the blood. Blood on the wall. Blood on the photo taken two summers ago when the three of them had gone to the beach. Blood splattered on the lampshade. Deep red upon pure white.

And then there was the smell. Oh the smell. It was a metallic smell. As though Sammy had been playing with a fistful of nickels and had gone to smell his hands afterwards. He had been in that room for not even a minute and could remember every tiny detail. How he wished he couldn't. How he wished that it was just a horrible dream and that he would wake up any moment in his own bed to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes.

Except he couldn't remember what they smelled like. All the only smell he could remember was that of blood. Sammy opened his eyes finding the darkness behind his eyelids to much. His sight once again fell on that of his bowl of soup. Yet in his six and a half year mind he saw it as a bowl of blood. The blood of his parents.

Sammy threw up.


Well I thought we had progressed in our relationship to the point were I no longer had to beg for reviews. So here it goes Please Please Please Please Please review.