Fear thrummed in Sarah like an instrument. No, she was almost there. She could have boarded her plane! No! Her world seemed to be crashing in on her. None of it made any sense. How could everything suddenly go wrong? Why hadn't they caught her when she was in her house? Why didn't they chase her on the road? Why hadn't they captured her in the hospital? Why, why, why??? Why didn't they let her hopes get too high? How could they do such a sloppy job? Why did they let her see her freedom right in front of her and make her unable to snatch it? It felt like her freedom was really right in front of her, and she could snatch it, and take it for herself, but she knew she couldn't. They walked briskly towards her, and she wondered if they had seen her. Afterall, she had sunglasses and a cap on. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she was just too scared. She began to walk as casually, yet fast as she could, but ran into more cops. "Mrs. Lincoln?" How had they recognized her? How in the world? Sandra didn't wait a second. She began to run, dragging her luggage behind her. She was going to run and hide someplace far. Even if she had to kick a taxi driver out of his car to do it, she would. However, more cops came in front the entrance, and she felt a strong hand graze her shoulder. Without thinking twice, she raised her luggage and knocked two officers down. They fell from the heavy weight, and she began to run even more freely. She flung the glasses and cap at one officer, who ducked. Her aim was to slow him down and it had worked even though it had only lasted a minute. No, she couldn't get caught. Serving jail term was something she never wanted to experience in her lifetime. No, she wasn't cut out for jail. All her friends would laugh, the ones she was superior to would act like they were the boss. Who knew how many years they'd have her serve? No! Why would she waste her life in prison? She couldn't. She had to find a way to escape.Although that was seeming really hard as phones were in the air, clicking madly. She had made a spectacle of herself. It was what everyone would keep watching for a long time. They wouldn't stop. She was humiliated. It was a huge humiliation. Sandra screamed as a cop landed in front of her, and she took off her shoes, even though it slowed her down. He caught her arm, and she used the other to slam his head. He groaned, leaving her, and that gave her the opportunity to kick him in his private area. With her hair flying around her face, she ran around barefoot with a shoe in hand like a mad woman. Sandra had always been composed and reserved. So no one had expected her to run and fight so well. They had underestimated her and her will to survive. The people making videos and taking photos seemed to enjoy her performance, although her performance was to save her life and not for their stupid amusement as she thought. "She's just one woman! Grab her!" One of the cops shouted, as Sandra tried to run up the escalator, pushing people aside. However, a teenager no more than fourteen years, suddenly pushed Sandra, who was least expecting it, and she fell bottom first on the escalator, and eventually hit her head. Like a criminal, she was kicked, and pushed down the escalator which was taking her up, by the people whom she had tried to shove aside. Sandra landed painfully on the floor, and was about to rise when a gun was trained on her by an out-of-breath officer. "Stop there. Raise your hands behind your head now." He ordered in a strong voice. More officers with guns crowded her, and Sandra had to accept she had been caught. Even if she knew they wouldn't shoot her to death as she wasn't a criminal known to be harmful to others, they could shoot her in the leg or in the arm. And since she was going to prison anyway, she didn't want to go limping, she wanted to go with a perfect body, and composure. She could still try to run, but even though they wouldn't shoot her, they had closed in on her, and use whatever skills they had to bring her down. It had all ended, and as much as she hated to admit it, she should have just gone silently. Everyone knew about it already, and the disdainful eyes on her, the amused laughter, rushed murmurs, and camera flashes from reporters who had magically arrived on the scene, hit Sandra harder than realizing she might really have to go to jail. Sandra raised her hands slowly, and held them behind her head with her eyes watering. She was roughly raised to her feet, and using a painful technique, her hands had been taken down and forced behind her back, to be cuffed. The iron locking around her wrists felt so cold and her tears began to fall. She had failed. She didn't look around, but the murmurs got louder, and turned into accusations, and condemnations. "Go, damn bitch! You don't deserve any pity!" "Just like your husband, you're pure bred criminal. Heck, you're even worse." "Look at her! She can't even respect her age." "How dare she hit a cop, I hope they add three more years to her sentence for this." "Grow old and die in prison." "Rot behind bars!" "That woman is one of the rudest creatures I know, deal with her well." "Officer you don't need to give her such courtesy. Drag her, push her, knock her!" Sandra's tears burned hot, heating up her face as they fell. The officer's grip didn't hurt, the fact she was going to prison didn't hurt, as it hadn't really kicked in, but the words hurt. The words thrown at her. Both the ones said out loud, and the ones which remained in the eyes that watched her. Disgust, disdain, hatred, pity for who she had turned out to be and not what she would turn out to be. Those ones hit Sandra hard. She was pushed into a cop car, and her head had been forced rudely to bow. She felt like a vein in her neck went stiff. Jolted in between two officers, her hands began to shake. Why hadn't Tyson and Carlos tapped her awake? She could have avoided all that. Sandra was driven back to the police officer with a gun trained on her as the officers could not underestimate her again. At the station, she was pushed behind bars. "You'll be having the trial with your husband. Best of luck. At night, don't cry. Pray that the prayers of the hundreds you've hurt and offended don't come to pass." The officer who had put her in the cell said, with a snigger. Indeed, she ought to pray about that. She had made way too many enemies and her pride was to blame. No, everything about her was to blame. ~ Charles sat in his living room watching the video of Sandra trying to run from the cops. It was hilarious and it made him smile because in the end she had been caught. Kicked down the escalator just like she'd always kicked people with her words and unfair actions. She really seemed like a drug addict. She had always been so composed that it hadn't show on her, but a middle-aged woman running like that, being as active and energized as that… Surely, drugs had come into play. Why else would there be bags of illegal drugs in her room? Even if she intended to sell it, she must have used it, as she was really crazy. All the way from the hospital, she had made it to the airport without being caught. She was really something. At first, he had been really worried when they had said Sandra had made a run for it, and wasn't at her house either. He had thought Sandra would escape just like Carlos and Lincoln whose whereabouts were unknown by anyone. Sandra losing consciousness at the result had been their escape ticket out, and they had made good use of it. Thinking of Carlos and Tyson's escape made him lose the humor he had found in watching Sandra being a spectacle for the whole city to mock. It almost made him lose his appetite when dinner was cooking in the kitchen. Then he got a call from James. "Mrs. Lincoln has been arrested at the airport." James reported. "I'm well aware of that. She endured really well." Charles replied, crossing his legs and leaning back in his sofa as he watched Sandra hitting an officer with her shoe. "Her bag. What was in there?" He asked, in curiousity, wondering if she had decided to take more bags of drugs to the airport. "There was a large sum of money there. Fresh and suspicious notes with lots of jewels that must have cost a fortune. It was covered shabbily with clothes."James replied, sounding amused. "Seriously? She wanted to leave her husband behind and start a new life? Unfortunately, I won't permit that." Charles replied, and James scoffed. "She put up quite a good performance at that. Quite a lot of energy for a woman who has given birth to two men who are capable of living on their own." He remarked. "Exactly my point. She only needs to get her hair tested. I'm sure they'll find that she's been going against the law and using drugs." Charles replied. "Anyways. Good work James… You've really helped a lot in bringing me closer to my goal. From the start to finish, you've been helping out. Honestly, without you, I'm not sure I could have pulled it off." He told him sincerely, and James could not help but allow a smile to form on his face. "I'm always at your disposal." He said, and Charles smiled. "When is the trial?" Charles asked, switching off the television so he could prepare to eat dinner. "In three days time." "Good. I'll definitely be there. I'm hoping for a heavy sentence for the both of them. They both deserve it." Charles replied, and shortly after that, he ended the call. He had gotten hia revenge on his father. Yes, he had definitely made his mother proud and put her at ease. It was time for Mr. Lincoln to finally go down and never rise. The trial was going to be the last of it all.