My Abigail: A Psychological Thriller

Chapter 5: Bare

"So where'd you end up sleeping last night?"

Abigail and I were seated across from each other at the small coffee shop I often visited in the mornings. Sometimes she met me, sometimes she didn't. Today, from the moment she walked in, I could tell it had been a rough night. Her hair was frazzled and messy-looking, and large bags hung under her eyes. Yawning, she had sat down and I ordered her a coffee. It seemed to have helped some.

"My house."

"Why do you look so tired then?"

She shrugged. "Just couldn't sleep."

I expected her to apologize for how she left the night before or offer some sort of explanation, but none ever came. I figured it was dangerous to broach that topic, but my curiosity got the better of me. "So why'd you leave like that last night?"

She took a sip of her coffee. "Hm?"

"After the movie last night. You just left. Walked right across the road. And told me to go back home a different way."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't remember that. It was a really long night."

"You just couldn't sleep, right?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"Just making sure you're alright."

Abigail smiled. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. How was your night?"

"It was good." I'd decided on the way over not to tell her about the strange boy I'd met. To be honest, I was curious about what he said. Sometime, I'd tell her, but not right now. "Very peaceful."

She accepted my response without question. "Do you come here everyday?"

"Huh?" I looked up from the table, where I'd been lost in thought.

"Do you come to this place everyday? Everytime that I come here, you already are."

I shrugged and glanced around. "Not everyday. But a lot. It's a nice place and not too expensive."

"Yeah. I guess." She looked at me curiously for a few minutes. "Is there something on your mind?"

"Kind of." I noticed I was curling my fingers together under the table again and forced myself to put my hands in my pockets. "I was just wondering, do you actually remember your childhood?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me about your parents and stuff, but you never really mentioned anything specific."

She shook her head. "I don't remember anything before I was... nine or ten."

"Why is that?"

Abigail looked at me weird for a minute, and took a few moments to answer. "They used to tell me I just had bad memory. I believed it for a while." She scratched at a knot in the wooden table. "I guess they were just trying to protect me."

I wasn't sure whether I should push farther or not, but ultimately I couldn't help it. "From what?'

"They said... Well, you know how I said that my dad wanted an abortion?"

I nodded.

"I never knew the reason they split up after giving me away. I just figured it was something that happens. Well -after my mom had said she didn't want an abortion- she told my dad they were gonna raise me, no matter the costs. That turned into a fight, and she said that she'd rather have me than be with him."

"And?"

"I'm not done. So, for some reason she left me at the house alone with my dad, who probably hated me by that point. This was just after I was born. Few weeks or so." She swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out.