Her Dark Desire (In the Process of Being Edited)

17

 The Daily Bugle

 

  Body Found in Abandon Building

Yesterday afternoon Mr. Robert Manning, current owner of Dover Technologies, and his team made a gruesome discovery when they came to survey the new site for the building they will be putting up this coming August. After trying for over a hour the team managed to open a locked door in the back of the building.

“When we got in there,” Mr. Manning says. “We didn’t see anything weird. There was just a few papers scattered around the floor, a couple of old tables and boxes but nothing significant. It wasn’t until we started digging around did we see it. It was just this huge early nineteenth century trunk hidden under some plaster where the ceiling had fallen in.” Mr. Manning bounces in his chair as he continues.

“The trunk was just magnificent, the pattern on it…was just wow. Other than covered in dust and cobwebs, I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. I know it probably sounds like I’m gushing but I’m a big connoisseur of furniture from that time period. I really thought this was it, the last piece I needed but…”

The man of forty goes silent as he remembers the finding. The mood in the room becomes somber, a few tears are seen on the great man’s face. He shakes his head.

“Who could do that to such a little girl?” His sobs grow louder, filling room with the grief that he feels. “Who?”

**************

 “Paisley.” The shrill voice of my mother calls up to me. “Paisley, you need to come down here right now.

My body turns in his arms and look at Zeke and sigh. His brown eyes are hidden behind closed lids. I raise my arms, my fingers play with the curls of his hair, he sighs in his sleep and pull me closer. Lightly I touch the side of his face, running a slender finger down his jaw line. The eyes of my honey flutters open as he stares down at me.

“Hmm,” he asks as his arms wrap around me tighter. “I was having a really good dream kitten.” I’m tempted to ask him what it was about, to use any excuse to not leave the warmth of my honey’s arms.

“Paisley,” my mother calls again. Her footsteps are stomping up the steps. “I know you’re not sleeping.”

I untangle myself from Zeke’s arms. “I’m coming,” I tell my mother.

“Well hurry up, this is important. It’s about that sweet little Abby.”

I can hear her walking away from the door. Abby, I think as I get out of the bed. Zeke watches me.

“Who’s Abby,” he ask.

Two words. “No one,” I tell him. A quick glance at the mirror. My honey’s eyes follow my own.

“What?”

“Nothing. Abby is no one.” I say the last sentence more to myself than to anyone. After so many years I never thought I’d hear that name. I shake the memory of a girl I never wanted to know away. I can feel a creeping cold wrapping itself around my wrist. Its fingers graze the edges of the bandages before nails dig into my skin, gaining a tight grip as it squeezes. I raise my arm but it’s met with resistant, my honey walks over to me, his eyes show concern. The pain is becoming unbearable, the pressure around it is mounting. I try to snatch my wrist away from the unseen force that snaked itself around it, the force presses tighter in response.

“Are you okay,” Zeke ask.

I simply nod. If I open my mouth a scream will escape. I bite down on my lip as the grip tightens.