IRRESISTIBLE | ABBY ANDERSON x FEM OC

Chapter 20: Sorry

CONTENT WARNING- MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSUALT.
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This can't be happening.
I searched everywhere for Abby. Her room, the gym, the gun range, the cafeteria, I even went to the sign out page by the gate to check if she spontaneously went on a patrol. Nothing.

Manny told me to give her some space and that she'd come around soon but the thought of her believing what she saw ate away at my heart and only pushed me to find her faster. The darkening sky indicated that I had been searching for Abby for far too long. Sighing and flopping down to sit on the floor, I knew I had been at it for too long.

Even though I was fatigued and mentally drained, one emotion prevailed in my mind. A furious, burning anger pointed towards Marlow.

How dare she touch me without my permission.
How dare she tarnish the trust Abby and I have built.

Merciless anger filled thoughts aimed at Marlow ravished my mind until I betrayed myself and placed that blame on my own shoulders.

How couldn't I have seen the selfish, disgusting person she really was? Years of 'friendship' and I still didn't know the real Marlow?

I shut my eyes hard and breathed out. It was too overwhelming: potentially losing Abby, dealing with what Marlow did, blaming myself?

Tears stung my red puffy eyes and a thick lump of helplessness still constricted my throat. I needed a release. Waiting around for Abby would only make my fury and sorrow accumulate.

_ _ _ _

An hour had passed and my ears ached from the protective headphones I had been wearing in the gun range. Shot after shot struck through the stale air, penetrating the targets with clean, hot slices to the paper yet I was still unsatisfied. My face felt tight from all the angered expressions I had exercised at Marlow earlier and my shoulders and arms ached from holding my pistol in the air for so long.

This wasn't satiating, I needed more. Shooting paper sheet targets at the gun range didn't absorb my frustration, as it was no match to the silence and peace of hunting in the wilderness. It felt controlled, predictable, automated and uncannily robotic.

I remember hunting for deer back at my childhood home with my parents, it wasn't just about the final shot or arrow, it was about the process. Every sense was used in the pursuit of the catch, making it so engaging. It was like a formula; using my sense of smell to take in the fresh forest and keeping a look out for prints in the mud with eager eyes. It was an art form. This was a mockery of that.

Tears relentlessly rolled down my burning cheeks and travelled down my neck, staining the tank top I wore. Helplessness engraved itself into my every move, even now I couldn't shoot accurately with tear blurred vision. Letting out an annoyed grunt I signed my weapon back in and went for a walk outside.

The stadium's centre was strangely calming at night. I've been so used to the chaos and constant labour needed to keep this place functioning that I haven't taken the opportunity to really observe the large space. It's overwhelming size was comforting, it made my problems seem miniscule and insignificant in comparison.

Sighing one last time, I exited the refreshing evening air and slowly and sorrowfully walked back to my room.

The way back was silent and reflective; I had time to think about what I'd say to Abby.