Bound To You (The Grabber FanFiction)

Dangerous Strangers Make Beautiful Lovers

"Don't accept rides from strange men, and remember all men are strange." -Robin Morgan

Abigail
People said you could sense danger, that could feel it in your gut. The problem was that I was conditioned to feel fear wherever I went. Safe to say my intuition wasn't very reliable at the age of twenty-one years old.

When I was five my brother George was taken. He was eight years my senior. It had been fifteen years since then. Back in the day no one worried about kids being taken, it wasn't even a thought. Nowadays you hear about a kidnaping almost every other month.

People speculated that my brother George was The Grabber's first victim. I didn't believe that. In fact, I struggle believing in The Grabber at all. Maybe it was copycats riding the high of another man's work. I couldn't allow myself to believe that one man could commit all those murders. That he could stomach all that blood, bury all those bodies for that many years. No man could possibly manage all that.

From the first step I took outside I felt it; the anxiety building up in my chest. Each man that passed by gave me the same unsetting feeling in my stomach. Nothing was worse than a strange man, and this town was full of them. I tried hard not to picture the man who killed my brother in every single one of them. It was hard not to be scared after reading all the nightmares in the papers. I had convinced myself that men were monsters stalking in broad day light, and they were scarier than any monster under the bed.

A car alarm startled me it was blaring off in the distance. It stopped me in my tracks. Some older men were talking loudly up the street outside a pub.

'They must be drunk,' I thought, 'That's what dad would say.'

Side roads felt safer, so I made a left off main street by the corner store. Then I saw him, and that fear that sat so heavily on my chest began to dissipate. The heaviness began to slip from my hands. The same way the man's groceries were slipping from his arms.

There was a storm brewing in the sky. Dark rain clouds rolled in, and the wind was picking up. The only other witness to this theatrical sight was a little boy across the street; He couldn't have been more than thirteen; he was sitting on the steps of the corner store, eating a candy bar, and drinking a bottle of grape soda.

The man had two armfuls of groceries, and he was just about to lose them. He stood behind a large black van that read Abracadabra, and he had one of the trunk doors open. He must have come from The Rosedale Market just like I had. However, I would have remember seeing him, wouldn't I? He wasn't hard to miss with his bright red turtleneck. His skin was a pasty white; he looked as if he smeared a thin coat of bozo's face paint over his skin.

I didn't mean to stare, but how could I look away from such a perfect train wreck, besides if I wasn't looking who would have helped him? I dropped to my knees I felt the concrete digging into my skin, and I knew I would pay for it later when I was cleaning the dried blood off of them. But no good deed goes unpunished now does it?

Albert
"Oh honey," I watched her drop to the ground beneath me. "Please, Miss don't go through the trouble."

The girl gathered the canned goods, and food that scattered along the sidewalk. She placed the food into the one paper bag that hadn't ripped. I held out my hand to her. She didn't grab it. She made it clear she didn't need too. I placed the bag into my trunk then slammed the door shut. I noticed how she jumped from the sound alone. She hadn't even spoken yet, and I knew more about her than I needed to know to figure her out.

"Did you observe that bullshit," I raised my brow, and looked down at the egg that stained the sidewalk. "Just complete bullshit," I muttered to myself.