Insanity is a stream that runs beneath the surface of normality. Most people are able to keep it beneath the surface during their whole lives. Other people can't avoid it to appear from time to time. Some other people, yet, have no other choice but to let it emerge. When it happens, it is forever, and it can happen at any time. Marta Simmons' insanity had always been very close to the surface. Today, it had definitively overflowed.

In a frantic rush, she arrived at the river exhausted, disheveled. She fell to her hands and knees on the shore, careless of the mud spattering her dress, oblivious to the gravel scratching her legs.

So many years had passed, where had they gone? She had been an attractive woman and had been waiting for her chance to escape from that cemetery. But, she had married a man with the spine of a worm. They had spent their whole lives there, waiting for the great opportunity to be seized, waiting for their moment to come. But it never came.

Maybe, the river's waters would wash away some of that rotten town's dust from her, that dust that was eating away her clothes, her skin, that once had been soft, her long hair, once shiny. Before she and Matt got married, she'd let it flow down her back, a flag of her beauty. Ah, how much she wanted to be a woman again.

But time had unmercifully passed. Year after year, it had erased her youth and beauty.

She closed her eyes, her face deformed by the excruciating pain that was crushing her heart. She forced them open and looked down at the river.

There was where Tom Barkley had nearly drowned. There was where Heath could have drowned as well. She laughed her coarse laugh. Wasn't that funny? She had hated both, still did. But neither the father nor the son had met their destiny, a destiny that now was just hers.

The black waters were running wildly, furiously, carrying away dead branches and other debris.

Black waters were running inside her as well. Wildly, furiously, her insanity carried her life away.

Barrett heard a noise from outside and went to the window. Before turning his back on them, he eyed his prisoners: the woman was still unconscious; Barkley's narrowed eyes were firmly on him, cold, unforgiving. For a short moment, as his former boss' eyes pierced his head from side to side, Barrett felt the old fear grip his heart. With a pure effort of will, he forced himself to resist, to remember who was the one with the gun. Feeling self-assured, he pulled aside the curtain and scanned the dark outside, seeing nothing but the black night.

The noise was coming closer. In a matter of mere seconds, he recognized the voice of a woman – a crazy woman – screaming at the top of her lungs. Now, he was able to distinguish the words. The woman was alternatively calling two names: "Heath", and "Matt". Once, Barrett clearly distinguished the word "Meath". It sent an icy shiver down his spine.

With the purpose of taking a better look at who was coming, Barrett quickly went to the front door the very moment Martha flung it open with a powerful kick.

Their eyes locked. There was pure insanity in those eyes. And those insane eyes were the last thing Barrett saw in his wasted life.

As Martha pulled the trigger, Barrett went flying across the room, falling on his back, stone dead.

Martha's eyes scanned the room.

Hannah opened her eyes at the wrenching sound of what she immediately realized was Martha Simmons' voice. She was screaming.

Notwithstanding the sharp headache which plagued her, Hannah's thoughts were as lucid as rarely had been in the last months.

The first time she had held Heath in her arms, when he was a newborn baby, she had immediately felt an indescribable feeling fill her heart. She recognized it as something she had felt before. It was pure, absolute love. She had had a son when she was just fourteen, but they had taken him from her after just a few months. She was a slave back then, and had no rights. But, she had never forgotten what a mother feels for her baby. Caressing Heath's soft cheek with her finger, she cried of joy. This baby was in her arms, and she loved him just like she had loved her own son. She swore she'd protect him at the cost of her life.

Now, she knew Heath was in danger

The last thing she remembered was she had shot Matt Simmons. She touched the top of her head with her fingertips and felt wet. No need to see it to know it was blood, her own blood. The room was dimly lighted but she knew she was home, the home she had once shared with her dear friend, Miss Leah, Heath's mother.

Hannah was startled when someone put a hand over her mouth. She was ready to fight and began to struggle. The handsome face of a young man came in her range of view. He had his finger on his lips, silently requesting to be quiet. A look in Nick's eyes and she decided she could trust him. She nodded and the hand dropped from her mouth. The young man helped her into a sitting position.

"Hannah, I'm Heath's brother, Nick Barkley. I want you to stay put. Barrett is a dangerous man", Nick said. Hannah nodded. This young man was Tom Barkley's son. If he was just a little like his father, and she could tell he was, she would put her life in his hands without a second thought.

Hannah took a look around and saw the man Nick had referred to as "Barrett" go toward the front door.

Then, all hell broke loose.