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

Chapter 15

Abigail closed the door behind her then walked out into the store. Abigail froze where she stood when she saw Victor. She was like a trapped animal locked in a cage with a predator; only difference was Albert wasn't able to beckon her like before.

Victor drew in his thin brown brows that were fairly manicured for a boy who otherwise didn't take much care of his appearance, and his bright blue eyes were engulfed under his eye lids. He squinted so tightly that crows' feet wrinkled up at the outer corners of his eyes. His judgement was so intense that she swore she could see it radiating off of him.

"Abigail...Dean." He enunciated every syllable. "This is the last place I'd expect to see you," he said. "I really thought you were too good for a job."

Abigail tightened her fist at her side. There was a salty after-taste in her mouth as he insulted her. She bit down on her tongue as she attempted to keep her composure; now, instead of salt, she could taste blood. Abigail, despite her father's successes, worked for what she got. She didn't accept handouts. Though as she thought this, she realized this job in itself was a handout.

Abigail released her tongue, and she wished she hadn't. "Personally I was hopeful the next time I'd run into you would have been at a forty year high school reunion, but I guess we were both wrong." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Nice to know you thought of me," he smirked and bit his bottom lip. "I gotta know...What happened, did daddy's money run out?" His eyes got wide, as he looked at her the way cavemen looked at the first flame.

Abigail couldn't believe she was getting bullied as a grown woman. She hadn't felt such a pit in her stomach since she was a teenager. A voice in her head whispered, 'ignore them.'

That's what she always told Finney whenever he came to her with a black eye. That kid's face was a magnet he was always getting punched. Quite the sound advice she thought sarcastically to herself  This was what Finney must have felt. Her advice didn't help him then, and certainly wasn't helping her now.

"Bite me," she hissed.

Hopper smirked, "Feisty."

Abigail sighed.

'Ignore him,' she thought again. Abigail lowered to her knees, she picked up the price tagger, and a small paint can from the bottom shelf. She rolled the tape over the lid. Abigail  hadn't quite gotten the hang of the price gun. She rolled it across the can of paint and a long strand of sticky paper pulled out. She tore it off and tried again to her dismay a long strand of receipt paper strung out. She was too shy to ask Albert to teach her again, and she was too far in to ask now.

Victor gripped his hand on the top shelf, and leaned his body weight on it. He looked down at her, giving her the evil eye, "Do you even know what.. you are doing," he jeered. 

"Yes, I do,"  she said bravely. It wasn't hard to tell that she was lying. If it wasn't her trembling voice, then it was her shaking hands that gave it away.

"Sure you do, "Victor scoft, and his lips curled up at the very outer corners, "Well now I know how you... got the job."

Even though she told herself she was ignoring him, it felt more like she was bowing down to him from where she was sitting. Victor was towering over her, the way Albert often did when she was pleasing him. Abigail felt vulnerable knelt on the floor trying to feed the receipt paper back into the price tag gun.

Abigail slowly moved her gaze up the length of him; starting with his old dirty converse, then his denim jeans that were slightly worn out at the knees, and lastly the red apron around his waist.  All the workers were required to wear one. Albert didn't give her one, and when she asked his only response was that, 'it wouldn't be necessary.'