“Spinelli, Stop! I hear something.” Jason screams into the phone.

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“He has the kids!” I scream into my dead phone, throwing it into the passenger seat.

“Ahhhhh” Pounding on the steering wheel, screaming my lungs out into the darkness, I cry from my guilt; I weep for my shame, I weep for my weakness.

“They need you! Your kids need you. He needs you! Pull it together! You are Samantha Morgan!” Pulling one hand off the steering, I grab my cell phone, plug it in and turn the truck engine. I cannot break down. I have to be strong. There is no other choice. This is all my fault.

While I give my phone a moment to charge, I clean myself up, clearing the makeup off my face and pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail. I ready myself for war. I do not know who this man has become in the past few days, but one thing is clear. I have no clue who he is. I have never known. Before grabbing my phone and following the imposter’s demands, I close my eyes and clutch my chest. I need one moment of peace, to think, one moment to feel something other than the crushing weight that has taken permanent residency on my chest.

Willing the nerves away, I put the address from the first text he sent in my GPS.

After driving 30 minutes outside the city, I end up at a rest stop off the highway.

“What is going on? Why did you send me here?” Slamming my truck door, I shout into the phone and pace on the side of the highway as the pressure on my chest intensifies.

“Wait for the next text.” He hangs up before I can protest, and my phone vibrates with a new address.

Hopping back into the truck, I punch the new address into the GPS. I can’t let him get to me.

Frustrated, I hop back on the highway and head towards the new location. After 45 minutes of driving in the opposite direction, I end up at an abandoned building 15 minutes from the heart of Port Charles. I park around the block and slowly step up to the side of the building.

No one is around. Everything is quiet. The house is quiet.

I creep up the front stair, with my gun drawn when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Startled, I pull it out to reveal a photo of the kids on Fakeson’s lap. He’s calling me.

“Hello! I’m done playing these-”

Cutting me off, his voice thunders through the phone, “You’re not done till I say you’re done. You should have called by now, have you reached the other location?”

“Yes! What is-”

“Wait for the next text message.” He hangs up.

Beyond pissed, I stomp back to my truck and fight with the door trying to get in. Every minute that passes, every game he plays with me, my hatred and lack of understanding for him mount. The only thing that makes me stay the course are my kids. Danny and Scout. He has my whole life, and there is nothing that can stop me from getting them back.

This time he does not give me an address. Instead, he sends a text message every five minutes telling me where to turn and when like he is tracking my every movement.

Get back on the highway appears on my phone first. Then get off at the second exit. Then turn left, then right.

After driving another 20 minutes north of the city, I arrive at a little cabin tucked nicely behind what seems like hundreds of trees. If the imposter had not given me the exact direction, I would have never found this place. You cannot see if from the road. One would never know there was a cabin here, and it does not help that darkness is everywhere. It is the perfect place to hide.

Turning my headlights off, I pull the truck between a row of trees, hiding it from the view of everyone. With how dark it is out here, no one should be able to see it from the road or the cabin.

Checking my gun, I return the clip and tuck it into the back of my pants. I open the door and place my lock cracking tools into the side pocket of my leather jacket, I secure the hairpins in my hair before I trek through the woods towards the cabin. I move as quietly as possible while marking some of the trees with my knife. I’m hoping I won’t need to use them as a guide back to the truck, but if I have to run in this darkness, these markings will be my only saving grace.

Taking a deep breath, I stand frozen at the door, unsure of myself. I know what I need to do, but I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t feel like myself; I haven’t in a long time. I can feel the battle raging inside me. The image that makes me doubt myself. The battle that is telling me I can’t do this.

Shaking my hands, and feeling the sweat build between my breast, I hesitate. I have never felt so much uncertainty in my life. Placing my fist to the door, I go to knock. I have to knock, my kids are on the other side but I can’t. I can’t make my hand tap the door. Stepping back and rechecking the address on the house, I know I’m at the right place yet I can’t knock on the door.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, my legs guide me around the house and to the windows. My mind and body are working for me. They are doing what I can’t do. They are fighting for us.

Slowly moving around the house, I feel like I’m dreaming. My legs are moving, but my mind is still reliving that earlier moment, stuck to that fear, to his voice.

I hear nothing coming from the house, the windows are painted black, newspapers line them, and no light peeks through. I continue to move along the perimeter of the house until I reach the backside of the house and see the light coming from one of the windows. The light hitting the darkness of the woods, knocks me out of my fog, and quicken my step.

Reaching the window, I see Danny playing on the floor. He’s in the front area of the house racing cars up and down Scout’s arm as she throws her head back in laughter. I love seeing them like this. Happy, secure and loved. Seeing them causes my motherly instincts to kick in. Every ounce of doubt I had about myself leaves my body and is replaced with a fierce fire pushing me to protect them.

Lightly tapping on the window, I try to get Danny’s attention, but his eyes are glued to Scout. Everything inside me wants to jump through the window and grab my baby boy.

Closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, I tap on the window a little harder. “Danny’ I whisper.

Nothing!

I tap a little harder, getting Danny’s attention this time. Popping up from his seated position, he stops himself from running to the window. Standing in the middle of the room, Danny stares at me.

“Danny!” Waving my hand to direct him to come closer, Danny shakes his head no and points at me.

Turning around to see what he is pointing at, I feel someone grab me, and everything goes black.

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Bolting up in a panic, I awake in a dark room, alone. “Ouch!” I grab my head to calm its pounding and help my eyes to focus when I hear Danny singing the theme song to Cars. Forgetting about my splitting headache, I jump up and head towards the door. “Danny!”

Reaching for the doorknob, something yanks me back; hurling me onto the bed. Disorientated, I raise myself and lean against the bed. I don’t recognize my surroundings. The room smells of oak, and fresh paint and the carpet feels soft and brand new. I know I’ve never been here before. Taking a moment to settle myself and take things in I wonder what time it is and if we’re still at the cabin.

Trailing my hand down my leg, I pull the lock off my ankle, “Owe!” After tending to the fresh wounds the chains left behind, I slowly and quietly move through the room. Paying close attention to stay close to the ground, I grab the sheet off the bed and place it over the lamp.

Taking a moment to slow my breath, and calm my racing heart, I close my eyes and listen. I listen for any and everything. I listen for Danny’s sweet voice, and Scout’s light laughs. I listen for his rough voice and threatening footsteps. After a while only hearing Danny and Scout, I turn the light on and search the room. I know I can pick this lock, but I need a little assistance.

Searching my body first, I find nothing; he took everything, even my hair tie, and pins.

Dropping to the ground, I search the floor, under the bed, and the drawers of the nightstand for anything that will assist me with this lock. There’s nothing. The room is empty. There is nothing in the room except the bed, nightstand and lamp — nothing more, not even a closet. There are no paintings on the walls, no pictures hung. Only four walls and a door. Defeated, I sink to the ground, trying with every fiber of my being not to break down!

“They need me! Your kids need you! He needs you.” I chant to myself as tears fill my eyes and despair covets my soul.

Calming my hyperventilating lungs, I picture his face. His eyes. His smile. His soul. Over the years it had faded. I could imagine him but not as vividly as I can now. I could see his face but not the way the left side of his mouth raised higher than the right when he smiled or how big his eyes got when he saw me. I could remember his voice but not his laugh or the way it made me feel. I remembered Jason, but somehow over the years, I forgot myself until now.

Blowing all the air out of my lungs, I open my eyes and reexamine the room. Moving slowly, taking my time to look at everything attached to everything; my eyes land on the screws holding the metal frame in place.

After a short while, I manage to get one of the long screws that hold the frame in place, loose. It’s exactly what I need to pick this lock.

It takes me a while, but I manage to remove it just as I hear footsteps approaching the room.

“I’ll be right back, stay there.” The imposter says to the kids as I barely make it back on to the bed before his voice sails through the room, and the door opens, lighting the room.

“Mommy is still sleeping, guys. She didn’t feel good when she arrived.” His voice makes my stomach turn as he closes the door.

Darkness fills the room again, and I’m on the move. Slowly creeping towards the door, I press my ear towards the door and wait. It’s the same sounds as before. All I hear is Danny, Scout, and the tv. Slightly opening the door, I peek one eye out the crack. I can’t see much, part of the tv and what looks like Danny’s arms but they keep coming and going. Opening the door enough to poke my head out, light floods the room.

Blinking hard, my eyes adjust to the brighter lights, and I noticed two other closed doors in the same row as mine. Testing my luck, I open my door wide enough to squeeze out.

After checking the other two doors, I find them locked; I move further into the house; strategically making sure to stay close to the walls, I hear Scout cry out. Throwing out all logic, I run towards her cry.

I slow myself as I enter the main room, to find Danny dancing and singing to Scout. She wasn’t crying. She was squealing with joy.

Forgetting everything else, I gush at my kids. True love fills my soul, and I feel like I could be whole again.

Knocking me back to reality, his voice smacks me in the face. “Look who it is. Took you longer than I thought it would!”

Standing up, “You’ve gotten a little rusty. I guess that’s what having a husband and kids will do to you.” He smirks at me.

Before I can respond, Danny tackles my legs, “Mommy, Mommy, I’m so happy you’re finally here.” Ignoring his words, I wrap Danny around the back of my legs and use the blanket Scout is sitting on to pull her towards me. The imposter doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care that I want my kids far away from him.

Picking up Scout, examining her face and touching her all over, peace finally washes over me. Feeling my kid’s bodies against mine is the strength I need to finish this. I have to do it for them. For Jason. For myself.