Chapter three
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
An incessant and very annoying buzzing noise sounded right next to Abby's ear, making her swat at the space between her face and the never ceasing alarm clock. "Shut up," she groaned, squashing her face in the middle of her pillow to block out the clamor. "I'm trying to sleep." She usually would've stopped the noise by now, but the clock was out of her reach and she was too tired to get out of bed, turn off the buzz, and snuggle back into the covers.
"If I say please, will it change anything," she muttered to the unintelligible clock, her voice muffled from being squished into her sweat smelling pillow. She was answered by another round of high-pitched buzzes. Annoyed and grunting, Abby grumpily threw off the three layers of blankets and sheets that she was buried under and lumbered drowsily over to the shelf where the infernal device was placed. She slammed her closed fist down on the Mickey Mouse alarm clock, relief and silence reaching her ears as the aggravating noise ceased.
"Finally," she mumbled, stifling a yawn as she extended her arms in an angled position so she could stretch them out from the rough night she had. Glancing out the window as she threw a huge stuffed animal from the ground onto her messy, slept-in bed, she saw below from her second-story view the grungy white mailbox that belonged to their house. The red flag was down and it was overstuffed with white envelopes which were probably all filled with bills and overdue taxes.
Abby sighed. "I guess I'll have to ask mom to pay bills today." She rubbed her face absentmindedly, not caring that she brushed a bruise that she had received on her cheek the previous day due to a fight at school. It had been the other boy's fault, Abby kept telling herself, trying not to feel guilty that she had given her opponent a black eye and a bloody, busted lip. He was the one who had called her a fatherless orphan. "I'm not an orphan," she sighed, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep the sleepiness away. "I have mom and Riley." She grimaced at the thought. "Mom... Not much of a mom anyways."
Her attention was suddenly drawn away from the window a certain commotion and noise that was coming from downstairs below her, probably in the kitchen. "Riley's already up?" She lifted her dark, delicate eyebrows slightly and pursed her lips together. "Never known him to be up early on a Saturday." She suddenly smiled, crossing her arms across her chest as she shivered from the air conditioning that had just started to come on. "Unless his favorite t.v. show is on. That's only when."
She lumbered down the stairs and glided her hands down the bannister, lifting her fingers elegantly, and feeling ridiculous like she was some sort of gorgeous, naïve Disney princess. On her way down, she passed a small pile of dirty, once white socks, old shirts that smelled stale and sweaty, and green, grass-stained jeans that belonged to Riley who was too lazy to carry them just a few yards into the laundry basket. She kicked them with the side of her foot and watched the bundle of balled up and bacteria-filled, germ-infested pieces of clothing fall to the bottom. "Mount Socks-more has been demolished!" She exclaimed, a faint trace of a smile creeping across her face.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she poked her head around the corner where the living room was and heard the t.v. going on in the background. Sure enough, just as she had predicted, Riley was sitting on the couch, a banana wedged between his fingers and his mouth agape, staring straight ahead. He was watching his favorite show that he had recently discovered one late night. Ever since that fateful day, Abby could never draw him or his attention away when he was watching it. Unless it was time to eat. Or a snack. Or sleeping.
"You up this early, Riley," Abby asked, making her way into the living room and throwing herself down next to him on the bouncy, springy, food and drink stained couch.
"Early," Riley asked, his eyes glued on the t.v. screen. "It's ten thirty. Did you think I'd miss my show for a little bit of sleep?" He didn't even glance at Abby from the corner of his eye. She was surprised he even answered her.
"Did you get breakfast already?"
Riley nodded mechanically, peeling the banana open, pinching the bottom of it and peeling it upward. "This is just an after-breakfast snack."
"Hmm. Wow, I slept late," Abby muttered, rubbing the back of her neck where a crook had started to form from last night's rough sleep of tossing and turning. "I guess I'd better get something to eat."
Riley again nodded like a robot that needed to be oiled as he stuffed whole banana in his mouth in one big bight.
She gave Riley a quick side hug before succeeding in getting off the sunken couch, which was well over twenty years old, and entering the kitchen. As she entered the kitchen, her mouth suddenly fell agape and dropped open wide as she stared at the massive, elephant made mess in front of her. Their usually empty sink was filled to the brim with plates full of grime, grease, and hard food that had been left there since the night before. Mom has had another late night party, Abby thought with a heavy sigh, glancing at the trashcan that had not been emptied for the past few days.
"Can't even clean up after herself," she muttered angrily, running her finger along the filthy, crumb infested countertop. "What kind of a-" She stopped herself mid-sentence, afraid of the angry words she might spurt out from the anger that was burning within towards her mother. It had almost been three years since her father had died, and in that time Abby had had the responsibilities of a grown up, not able to enjoy the rest of her childhood. It had been stolen from her by her mother, who through the past years had not been the type of person who was even fit to be called a mother. Their mother had hardly kept money on the table by working at the local gas station through the years, and Abby had an even harder time trying to keep Maria from gambling it away and spending it on useless and frivolous things. Not to mention the alcohol. Abby had to literally take the money from Maria when she was paid and hide it in order to buy food for the week and pay the numerous bills that seemed to always be piled up.
But ever since her father died, Abby had been keeping a secret feeling inside for her mother. A secret bitterness that she hid for the sake of Riley. On the outside, she was sweet, compassionate, and patient with her mother. But deep inside she kept a burning hatred and loathing towards the one she called mother, to the one who was supposed to be there for her, but instead was always out late at night; the one who was supposed to ensure stability, but instead brought home a new boyfriend every month; the one who was supposed to bring the family together in hard times and hold them close, but who pulled away and expected to be left alone and have nothing to do with the family.
Abby wrung out a soaking wet dish cloth and started to wipe down the grimy counters, moving back and forth at a furious rate to keep her emotions at bay. She could start to feel the tears that were building behind her eyes and threatening to course down her cheeks as she thought of her family. Her broken, shattered family. The head of the family who was supposed to always protect and be there - her father - was dead. The heart of the family who was supposed to nurture, love, care, and be there to kiss your wounds and tell you that you everything's going to be okay - her mother - was not fit to even take care of a cat. And her brother... "At least I have Riley," she sighed, taking a shaky breath in and trying to cool her anger down. "He's all I need. He's perfect."
With all that was in her, she scrubbed the countertop harshly, pushing down with all her might to keep her mind off the depressing and angering thoughts. Just stop thinking about her, she consoled herself. Just... just don't think about it. Unable to keep her mind off the thoughts, Abby threw the damp cloth angrily into the sink and walked out the kitchen, heading towards the door.
A little fresh air will help, she said to herself, conscious that she was still wearing an oversized, baggy t-shirt and her old pajama bottoms that served as her pjs. I'll get the mail while I'm at it.
Pulling the huge, white, front door open, Abby slipped out of the house quietly. Walking barefoot down the cold, cement driveway, she smiled as the fresh air greeted her as an old friend would. The soft breeze whipped her hair around her face and into her eyes, and the cold ground below her feet made her walk along the sides of the greenish brown, dew covered grass. Everywhere, life seemed to be dying wherever she looked with the coming of the cold weather. It just added to the hardness and bitterness that was building up inside of her like a disease that spreads without any end.
Reaching the mailbox - but not being in any hurry -, Abby pulled out the jumble of weather stained letters, a few soggy magazines, and one particular and interesting message that caught her eye. The envelope was a cream colored tan with wrinkles covering it like it had been through many countries and many calamities to reach its final destination. There was no return address and the stamp had been stamped over numerous times. Turning it over curiously in her hands, she saw that the letter was addressed to - "Daddy?!"
From the time that her father died up to a year after he had passed away, Abby had been used to getting letters addressed to him, but they had stopped after two years. She hadn't received a letter addressed to him since two summers ago. This letter looks old, like it has been trying to reach us for a long time.
Cramming all the other ordinary mail under her arm and furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion, Abby fingered the odd letter between her fingers and tried to feel if it contained more than just a letter. She felt something 3D against her fingers as she gently made her hands move in a circular pattern to better asses it.
Suddenly, Abby heard her name being called by a high-pitched, sweet sounding voice. Looking up quickly - startled by the noise -, she hastily stuffed the curious letter in the band of her pants and pulled her shirt over it. Turning to look where the voice came from, a silent sigh escaped her lips when she saw a short, thin girl waving to her from the road. The girl was in the backseat of a brand new, black B.M.W., and she had the window rolled down with half of her body hanging out.
Waving slowly back at the girl, Abby plastered a fake smile across her face and walked towards the road where the B.M.W. had slowed. The girl had jumped out of the car once it stopped and ran up to Abby, a look of joyful bliss in every line of her face.
"Abby!" She squealed, taking Abby's arms and swinging them back and forth. The mail in her arms flew everywhere, landing in the neighbor's rose bushes which were even forbidden to be touched.
Jerking away from the girl's loose grip, Abby stooped down to pick up the runaway mail. "What is it, Sadie?" She asked, trying to keep annoyance from her tone.
The girl, named Sadie, who was about eight, had long, odd, greige colored hair that reached past her waist and soft brown eyes that were full of life. She wore a bright blue summer dress - which was a little out of season, Abby thought - with a jean jacket over it, and the hair that framed her petite face was clipped back into a diamond studded barrette. Her whole aura was bubbly and full of life. "'What is it', you ask?"
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Abby nodded, still trying to keep her counterfeit smile. "Yes, that is what I asked, I believe."
"Oh." Sadie's grin hardly dampened at Abby's tone. "Well, we were on our way to the mall - mom's going to take me shopping for new clothes today while daddy is away on a business trip - and we just happened to drive by your house. So then we saw you out in the front getting the mail and I asked mom if we could take you with us!" Her faced beam with girlish delight and her smile widened, showing her pearly white teeth. "You just have to!"
Abby shook her head slowly, making eye contact with her giddy, younger cousin. "I... I can't today."
"Why not?" Sadie's eyes were focused intently on Abby's.
"Well," Abby groped for some sort of excuse to not have to spend the day with her younger cousin. Sadie was nice, but sometimes she could get a little too excited, which led to her becoming extremely annoying. "Well, mom is working today and I have to watch Riley," she lied, hoping Sadie wouldn't notice that the garage door was half open, their old Chevy Cavalier barely visible. If Sadie saw the car, which her mother took to work, she would be uncovered.
Sadie giggled and swatted her hand in the air. "That's not a problem. He can come with us!"
"Uh, no." Using her pointer finger, Abby twisted a piece of hair and placed it behind her ear so it wouldn't get tangled in her face. "I have to watch him. Here."
Sadie's expression looked perplexed, but just for a moment. It was gone in an instant, and her cheerful composure was back. "I guess Aunt Maria is working again, then?"
Abby inhaled sharply, briefly turning her face away from Sadie's so she wouldn't see the pained expression she had. "Um, yeah. She is."
"She's been working a lot these days, isn't she," Sadie said, probably not even knowing the pain she was causing Abby.
"Yes, she has."
There was a long, awkward pause for a moment between the cousins, until suddenly Sadie broke the tenseness in the air. "Well, I guess I'll get going. I'll see you at the school fall festival later today though, right?"
Exhaling softly, Abby nodded slowly, half smiling. "Yeah, I'll be there."
Sadie's face lit up again as she grabbed Abby's hand and squeezed it tightly. "See you then!" With the swiftness of a cat, Sadie had run down the driveway and jumped in the car, waving out the window as it drove away.
"See you then," Abby mumbled, dreading what was to come that afternoon. It's not that she was antisocial, but Abby hated all the kids at school. Everyone made fun of her and made her feel like a misfit and an outcast. She had already made up her mind that she wasn't going to attend the fall festival, but she had told Sadie she would, and she wouldn't hear the end of it if she didn't keep her word.
Her mind suddenly flew back to the mysterious letter tucked in her pants, nestled against her hip and irritating her skin. She took a deep breath in, trying to decide whether or not to tell her mother about it, and crossed her arms over her chest. There were two things her mother would do if she found out. She would either rudely snatch it out of Abby's hands and put it somewhere it would never see the light of day again, or she would snatch it out of Abby's hands and read it before she'd let Abby even glance at one word of it and possibly let her have it when she remembered. "No," Abby said, deftly aware that she was talking out loud to herself. "No, I won't show her. I won't even tell her. She doesn't need to know."
Patting her stomach where the letter was hidden beneath her shirt and pants, Abby walked up the driveway, slightly pulling up the knees of her pants so that they wouldn't drag on the ground, and pushed open the front door. She closed it quickly behind her as the force of the strong breeze slammed against her. Leaning against the door, Abby started to absentmindedly rub her cheek with her hand and chewed on her already cracked lips. Maybe I should tell her, she thought, knitting her eyebrows together. But then again, it's not like I'm lying or anything. It's not like she knows or she's expecting a letter. "I'll just keep this to myself for now," Abby mused, twirling a piece of long, dark hair between her fingers. "She'll never know."
"Never know what?"
Jumping from startle-ment, Abby almost dropped the mail again when she heard the deceptively calm voice of her mother, dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "Oh, mom. You're up?" She started to peel skin from her inner cheek with her teeth, trying to cover up her anxiety. She didn't know why, but lately her mother made her feel jumpy and nervous, and she couldn't figure out the reason.
Maria pushed her shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, giving her a saucy-like appearance. Her mascara had been smudged - like it usually was - and her hair was all tangled from sleeping with wet hair. "Does it look like I'm sleeping?" She sneered, wiping her hair away from her face. "Didn't think so. Now back to my question." She leaned towards Abby, whose head was up to her chest, and narrowed her eyes to slits. "I asked you, young lady, what would I never know?"
Maria's breath smelled heavily of alcohol, and by the way she was holding herself, Abby could tell that the effects of the intoxication had not worn off yet from the previous night. "That..." Abby searched for a believable lie, but knowing that she didn't have to think too hard because of the crippled state her mother's mind was in at the moment. "It was just that Sadie came over, asking me if I wanted to go shopping with her." Abby averted eye contact on purpose. "I was going to... but-"
"But you're not," Maria cut her off, turning around abruptly. "I need the house to be cleaned, you got that, Abby-girl?" Maria walked - more like stumbled - off, turning her head slightly to the side. "You're not going anywhere till this house is spotless. I'm having guests tonight, and I don't want this place looking like a pig pen, you got it?"
Abby's mouth opened to retort something smart-alecky back, but thought better of it, knowing that she would probably get the brute end of a punishment. Most likely more chores. "Yes, mom," she mumbled instead, crushing the mail in her hands as a way to release some of the anger inside. It barely worked. The only thing that kept her tongue from lashing out at her mother was the notion of not getting hit with the back of Maria's fist. She didn't want to have a bruised cheek for the fall festival, even if she thought it was silly to go.
Slouching her shoulders and sticking her bottom lip out, Abby crossed her arms across her chest, going to sulk in the kitchen as she cleaned up the enormous mess. As her mother walked away out of hearing range, Abby started to mutter something about Maria, but was silenced by a sharp glare.
It seemed as if Maria suddenly took an uncommon interest in Abby, for she quickly turned around and glared at her, narrowing her eyes. She raised an eyebrow and slowly walked up to Abby, circling around her like Abby was her prey and she was a hawk. Abby tried to shrink under her gaze, almost afraid of her reproof. Maria took a thick strand of Abby's dark brown, almost black, hair and held it between her dainty fingers.
"What a dull and dirty color," Maria sighed, twirling Abby's thick hair with one finger. She then tilted Abby's chin up so that their eyes met. Abby saw her mother's eyes flicker back and forth, studying her face with indifference. It seemed as if she could almost read the fear of her mother in her face. "Too bad your eyes are so commonly mud brown. And your face... so plain and ugly." She dropped Abby's chin, forcing it down, and gave her a smile that sent shivers up her spine.
"You are too much like your father, Abigail," Maria spat, turning her back to Abby. "In everything. Such a coward."
Abby swallowed hard, dropping her eyes and trying to keep her anger locked inside. "Well, at least I'm not like you and more kind like him," she remarked boldly, rubbing the side of her arm.
With such a swiftness and speed that Abby never knew her mother had, Maria had turned and gripped Abby's face tightly between her hands, squeezing it firmly. Her long, manicured nails bit painfully into Abby's skin, marking her cheeks with four deep indents on both sides. "Don't you talk to me about your father, young lady," she hissed, squeezing Abby's face even tighter.
"You started it," Abby challenged, looking into the beautiful blue eyes and face of her mother. Since before she could remember, Abby always wanted to look just like her mother, who was always defined by others as a beauty. And to have Maria cut her down like that... Abby felt the hate for her mother once more bubble up inside her, so near to the surface that she was sure it would overflow into a huge mess. It took all of her self-control to contain it.
"Yes, I did. And don't you ever forget it." She yanked Abby's face to the side and turned away, not looking back.
Rubbing her face gingerly, Abby glared at the back of her mother and ran upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her with the an anger that fueled her force. She threw herself onto her bed, sat crisscross apple sauce, and bit her lip till she tasted the familiar, salty, iron-like flavor of her blood in her mouth. Clenching her fists tightly until her knuckles went white, she looked up, and across from her bed was her mirror.
Abby rolled off her bed and walked slowly over to the mirror, inspecting her reflection as if it would give her answers to all the questions she had. Touching her red marked cheeks softly, Abby saw two, dull-colored, soft brown eyes, a small, pointed turned up nose, and a little mouth with pink lips, all framed by her dark and dirty colored hair that reached to her waist. Am I really that ugly? She thought, her rose-bud shaped lips cracked and dry. She tugged at her long hair, holding it up in the air like it was a dead thing in her hands that repulsed her. "Stupid hair," she muttered, dropping it with a huff. "Stupid eyes."
She glanced in the mirror again, and this time she saw a whole new reflection, one that almost scared her. Her whole face darkened with anger, almost black with hatred and vehemence; towards her mother, and towards herself. She growled at her visage and turned away, knocking down her chair in anger and frustration. "I won't ever want to look like her again. Never."
Yanking open a draw from her nightstand, Abby drew out a pair of sharp, fabric cutting scissors and placed them in her hands. Going back to the mirror, she shook her head slowly. Taking her hair and pulling it taught, she opened the scissors and positioned it over the hair as high up as her shoulder and hesitated, but only for a moment. Before she had time to waver in her decision, she had already snipped off more than half of her long tress. It was only a matter of minutes before the rest of her long hair was chopped off. A pile of her hair fell at her feet and surrounded her on the floor as she tried her hardest to even the ragged and cut hair, but only succeeding a bit.
"If I looked anything like her before, I look nothing like her now."
* * * * *
"You were told to watch her and report, Ives!" A man's soothingly deep voice echoed through the barren room, bouncing off the concrete walls and back to Jadon's ears. "I thought that your mission was clear enough."
Jadon leaned back on two legs of the chair he sat on, just far enough he wouldn't fall backwards, and gave the man in front of him an unconcerned look. "I carried out the mission given to me, Reynolds. That's all."
The stranger wore black jeans and dark, steel toed boots, completing the look with a long sleeved leather jacket and his spiked hair. His hair is what really gave him a look of authority. His dark brown hair was cut very short on the sides, but the front top of it was longer and slicked back into a puff right above his forehead. Jadon always thought he look like a rooster. He didn't know why, though, but it gave the man a sense of dignity and authority. "No, you did not, Ives!" His thick British accent sliced through the tension in the air.
"My job was to watch her, Reynolds, and that's what I've been doing," Jadon retorted, his voice cool.
Reynolds narrowed his deep blue eyes and gave Jadon a venomous glare that spelled certain death. "No. Your job was to report her and bring her in if she showed any signs of being like her father."
Brushing his fingers through his unruly, flakey, and much in need of a wash hair, Jadon shook his head and sighed. "She's... she's not ready. I don't think she has what it takes."
Reynolds placed his black gloved hands on the table that was the only thing separating him from Jadon, and leaned forward threateningly. "A twelve year old girl who has already mastered several forms of martial arts, you think, is not ready? She must be brought in immediately for further training!" His British accent was becoming annoying, Jadon thought.
"What makes you think she will want to?" Jadon challenged, letting his chair down back on four legs. "She's just a child."
"If you would remember, Jadon," Reynolds's tone of voice suddenly became quieter and less fierce. "We were all children. We never had a childhood."
Jadon sighed and shook his head, casting his eyes down to his clasped and folded hands. She would never have a childhood if she was brought in, Jadon thought, clenching his fists tighter. But then again, she doesn't have much of one now. Jadon looked up into the piercing, almost unemotional eyes of his dark companion and swallowed hard. "No, Alister." Jadon unclasped his hands folded his arms across his broad chest. "That's not the life Gabe wanted her to have."
Alister's face suddenly registered a flicker of emotion - pain, or sympathy, was it - when Jadon mentioned the name of the agent who had been dead for three years. "I don't think," Alister said quietly, straightening his back and lifting his head higher. "I don't think this is life he wanted her to have now."
The silence between the two men stretched for long a period of time before Jadon finally broke it, saying, "I won't do it, Alister. I won't be the culprit of ruining her life, her young, tender years."
Alister lifted an eyebrow, turned his head slightly, and nodded slowly. "If that's how you feel, Jadon, I am very sorry. I'm sure drawing the agency's attention to your young friend would've brought you much success, and possibly a higher position."
Jadon frowned deeply. "Success isn't everything in this world, Al."
Alister raised his eyebrows. "Of course. I forgot who I was talking to." He faced his back towards Jadon and started to walk away. "The Jesusfreak," he spat out contemptuously over his shoulder. "Never mind bringing her in. I'll do it myself."
Jadon pushed his chair away from the table and stood erect, staring at the back of his old comrade. "Don't rob her of her childhood, Alister. Don't go against the wishes of Gabe."
Alister's moving figure suddenly stopped abruptly, almost as if he was having second thoughts, and then moved forward again. "I will be doing her a favor Jadon. And you can do one for me, also." He turned his head slightly to side and smiled somewhat. "Stay out of my way. Stay out of this."