A year later
As I'm leaving my therapist's office, I hear the news reporter say Stan's name.
The tv on the wall in the waiting room is showing the outside of Stan's house, where policemen are trying to keep control of the situation.
Instead of going outside so my dad can drive me home, I sit on one of the tatty chairs to find out what they're saying.
"-after he kidnapped seven girls and two boys. His father and older sister have also been arrested and will be facing trial in the next few weeks. Stan himself, however, is already in prison after being caught trying to evade the police," a mug shot of Stan appears on screen, "his sentence has not been released to the public yet, however, based on previous cases, one could assume Stan will be given a minimum of twenty years."
Twenty years? That guy should be locked up forever.
"The majority of the hostages escaped, however Bebe Stevens and Annie Knitts were unfortunately shot and passed away due to blood loss," the screen shows pictures of Bebe and Annie, "the small town of South Park is holding a funeral for the two young girls next week after Wacky Races is finished."
The office door opens and my dad walks in, looking worried. Once he spots me, he breaths a sigh of relief.
"What're you doing here, kiddo? We're going home, remember?"
I can't even respond. I'm so choked up by Annie that I can't say anything. All I can do is point to the screen and hope he understands.
He's my dad. Of course he understands.
"Oh, Kyle," he kneels down in front of my chair and wraps his arms around me, "it'll get easier, I promise."
I can't stop the tears now. Within seconds, my dad's shoulder is damp, but I'm sure he doesn't care.
"She didn't deserve it." I mumble into his shoulder.
"I know, Kyle, I know." He pats my back comfortingly.
I sit in his arms for a while as I wait for my tears to disappear. It takes a while, but once I finally stop getting snot all over my dad's shoulder I let him lead me to the car.
"Do you want some music?" He asks as I buckle myself in.
I shrug, so he switches on the radio.
"... twenty years in prison. Personally I-"
Dad turns off the radio.
He drives in silence back to our house.
My therapist is out of town since we didn't want to be followed by money-hungry paparazzi. It's not so far that it takes hours to drive home, but it's far enough that the cameras leave us alone after a while.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a suspicious looking car. One of the tinted windows is open very slightly and occasionally I see a quick flash.
"There's cameramen following us." I tell dad.
His grip visibly tightens on the steering wheel as he unexpectedly turns a corner. I slide in my seat and slam into the car door.
"Sorry, I'm just taking a different route to try and throw them off." Dad explains.
He sticks to this path for a minute before turning again, this time in the opposite direction than we should be going.
I check the wing mirror and the car is still following us, not fooled by our plan.
"Still tailing?" Dad asks.
I nod.
With a sigh, dad increases his speed slightly and continues down this road. He turns on his right indicators, but then turns left and starts going even faster.
I can recognise these roads and I know that we're getting close to home. If we haven't thrown them off our scent with that dumb indicator trick, they're going to be at our house.
I take another quick look in the mirror, but I can't see anyone.
"Those are some persistent paparazzi." Dad mutters.
He slows down a little and starts driving the correct way home. I find myself constantly checking the mirror in case they start tailing us again, but the only other vehicle I see before we get home is a delivery van.
Dad parks in front of the garage and hands me the house keys.
"Let yourself inside. I've got to go to the store quickly."
"What if those guys start following you?" I ask.
"Then I'll beat their asses," he punches the palm of his hand to emphasise, "I'll be fine, Kyle. Don't worry about me."
I get out of the car and hurry to the front door. Despite it being a year since I was kidnapped, I still don't like being outside for too long, especially if I'm on my own.
Well, I'm not technically on my own since dad can see me from the car, but it still makes me nervous.
I watch dad as he drives off and then there's a loud bang from behind me. I drop to the floor into a ball, arms over my face.
Seconds later, the front door opens and mom nearly trips over me.
"Kyle, what are you doing out here? Where's your father?" She crouches beside me and wraps her arms around me, "What was that noise?"
When I don't answer her, she holds me at arm's length and removes my arms from my face. She sees my tears and how I'm struggling to breathe.
"Breathe, baby," she tells me, "you're having a panic attack."
I hear lighter footsteps coming from the house.
"Is he okay, Sheila?" Heidi asks, sounding panicked.
"He's just having another panic attack. Can you help him inside?" She wipes a few tears from my face and moves away, "I'm going to find out what that noise was. I think it was from across the street."
By now, some of the other neighbours have stepped out of their houses, wondering what the bang was.
It wasn't a gunshot, but it was something loud and definitely came from Stan's old house. As far as I'm aware, nobody lives there so unless a homeless person found their way in, I don't know who or what it could be.
Heidi helps me to my feet and leads me inside. She sits me on the couch then rushes to the kitchen to get me a glass of water.
"How was your session?" She asks, sitting beside me. She hands me the water and watches as I take tiny sips whilst I try to control my breathing, "your dad called earlier. Sheila sounded worried."
"I got distracted by the news."
She makes a small "oh" sound, understanding what I mean. She can't have avoided the news of Stan's trial; she's always either listening to the radio or watching CNN.
"Where are Jess and Trey?" I ask, having finally stopped hyperventilating.
"Upstairs, sleeping." Heidi smiles.
"Can I go see them? It'd make me feel better."
"Of course, silly. You can see them whenever you want."
I place my cup of water on the coffee table and follow Heidi to our room. Since the two of us kind of became a thing a few months ago, she moved in with us and she and her twin babies shares a room with me.
She named them Trey and Jessica, after two voice actors from her favourite cartoon, and they are adorable.
We creep into the room and stand over the cribs, watching the two of them sleep. Their tiny chests rise and fall with each delicate breath and Jessica's hand clenches around my pinkie finger.
"Where's mom?" Ike asks from the hallway, his headphones resting around his neck.
"I dunno," I shrug, "outside still, I think."
"Well the WiFi's going down and I'm trying to do my English project through a group video chat. I'd go down myself but Filmore's yelling at Firkle again," he rolls his eyes, "can you go see what's up with the box?"
"Fine."
I reluctantly tear myself away from the babies and trudge downstairs.
Sat on our sofa is a familiar girl, with curly black hair in pigtails. At her feet are two small suitcases and a multicoloured backpack covered in badges. She's staring at the wall, emotionlessly.
She is the girl I was never introduced to in the Dollhouse.
"Oh, Kyle," mom emerges from the kitchen with a mug in her hands, "Theresa here was just telling me about you."
"Who?"
"Theresa," she repeats, nodding over to the girl on the sofa, "she was in that awful place with you. She was in the Marsh house for some reason, looking through their drawers."
Mom sits beside Theresa and carefully hands her the mug.
She doesn't go to drink it or place it on the coffee table. She just sits, staring blankly at the wall with it between her hands.
"What did she say?" I ask, a little uncertain.
"She didn't say much, but she said she can trust you. Then she handed me this." Mom picks up a tattered envelope from the coffee table and passes it to me.
Feeling even more uncertain, I lift the flap on the envelope and pull out a folded piece of paper from inside.
With a bad feeling running through me, I unfold the paper. It's a letter.
"Read it." Mom says.
" 'Dear victim of the Marsh case,
I am delighted to bring you news of the imprisonment of Stanley Marsh. This information must not be leaked to any media outlets else there will be consequences.
As a consequence of kidnapping, underage drinking, intent to kill and all of his other crimes, Mr Marsh will most likely remain in prison for the remainder of his life. There is a very slim chance of early release, however he is one of the worst teenage criminals we have ever seen, so I doubt this will ever happen.
Restraining orders are on their way for all of the victims and Mrs Marsh, who played no part in the crimes as she was drugged and abused by her husband Randy Marsh.
We hope this will be satisfactory.' " I take a breath after reading.
Mom is in tears and Theresa has taken a sip of her drink and shifted her leg slightly.
"Oh my god, this is amazing news!" I gasp, "we'll never see him again."
"I know, baby, I know." Mom wipes her eyes.
"So... it's actually over?"
"It's over." She nods with a smile.
.