The Secrets We Keep In The Dark (The Grabber fan-fiction)

Chapter 8

Albert fed the boy. He stood down there and watched him eat like a rabid dogs who hadn't seen food in months. His mind began to wander off thinking of Abigail.  She was kind to fault. She was sweet and maternal. The kids must loved her, he did. His soul ached for an unconditional love like that.  Albert would bet that if he said her name the boys eyes would light up like a street fare. He figured it was cruel to give Finney false hope that someone would find him. So he never mentioned her.

If she ever found out that Finney was in his basement she would never forgive him. Albert knew that the boy had to die here. He had to be the last, and it needed to be quick.

Albert knew he had spent too much time in the basement because he could hear the  faint ringing sounds. He kept reminding himself it wasn't real. It started years back when his father used to beat him down there. Ever since then he could hear the phantom phone ringing. Sometimes when he went upstairs he could still hear it.

"Do you hear that," he whispered, "sounds like the phone."

He listened long and hard, "oh that's just the phone upstairs," he sighed with relief. 

Al ran upstairs and grabbed the phone, "Hello," he grunted into the phone, but he was too late. He knew it was her, had to be. No one else called him. No one in the world sought out for the grabber.

He slammed the phone down and  held his head tightly, 'that's not who I am,' he muttered quietly to himself.
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Abigail listened in, but there was no one on the other end, "Al," she whispered, but the only response was a click. Dead air that's all there was.

Abigail looked in the mirror for the last time. She pulled her brown hair to one side. It was just past her shoulder stopping at her breast. She placed her hands along her toros feeling the smooth fabric with the palms of her hand. The dress was a deep red color. It stopped at her calves. She never had a reason to wear it, nor had anyone to wear it for.

Then the phone rang, and she wrestled over the ottoman to grab it.

"Baby," his soft voice carried over the phone.

She giggled, "what if I wasn't the one to pick up the phone."

"I had a good feeling," Albert chuckled, "You are still coming for dinner aren't you?"

"If you still want me to," she said, fishing for his affection.

A moan escaped his lips, "well of course. I have to have my dessert with dinner."

She blushed at the thought of his face between her thighs, "then I'll be there."

"Peachy," he said. The phone disconnected.

......

"Hi," she managed to utter. She shifted her eyes from left to right.

She didn't recognize the man who peered behind the door. She kept praying that by some miracle Albert would swoop in and save her from this awkward exchange.

He had dark hair, and a thick mustache. The whites of his eyes looked bloodshot.When he spoke he tried his best to look everywhere but at her. Like keeping eye contact was too much for him to bear. His hands were jittery, and she watched them as he fiddled his fingers along the side of the door. She heard the vicious bark of a dog coming from behind him.

"I'm sorry excuse me," he said, and closed the door in her face. She thought about turning around, just leaving. Pretending this whole exchange never even happened. Like Albert never happened.