My Abigail: A Psychological Thriller

Chapter 14: Myriad

(20 years later...)

I sat on the red, plastic bench without saying a word. A few weeks and two girlfriends earlier, I'd sat on this same bench. I'd live in the city all my life, and still I was alone. Besides a brief stint in college, this was it. This was my life.

A small, messy apartment building not far away was my home. I'd never shared it with someone. The bed was always mine, and only mine. There was one toothbrush in the bathroom, one plate on the table, and enough beer to get just me through the week. Some people lived paycheck to paycheck. I wondered if I could live bottle to bottle.

The city around me was desolate, as rain blanketed us. Today, it was freezing rain, so most people stayed indoors. When you stood out in the open, the clouds were an impenetrable dome overhead. They made us all feel closer and more friendly, like we were fighting against the white skies overhead that trapped our fragile lives together.

Across the street there was a red umbrella, leaning lonely against a brick wall. There was a story behind the forgotten object, but I had no hope of discovering it. The tip dug into a crevice between two bricks, glistening with rain water. A curved, muddy handle sat in the dirt.

Except for my plastic companion on the opposite side of the street, every inch of sidewalk was deserted. I felt like the dome was pressing in further.

If only I could have risen up a few dozen feet, I could see throughout the entire world. The other places I could go.

She appeared on the horizon- a weak figure, barely visible against the city backdrop. But I never thought she was an illusion. I knew the instant she came into my vision that she was real. I wondered if she knew too. She had been coming.

There was always someone on this street at night. It was the only time of day I could help people. Hurt, broken, abused, and forsaken, I felt a deep connection with them. Every single one.

We could have been friends -I knew it- except they always left. Every single one. Maybe she'd be the one that stayed.

As she came closer, she saw me on the bench and crossed to the opposite sidewalk, away from me. I stood up, feeling my rain-soaked jeans stick to my legs, and walked over to meet her.

Despite her quickening pace, I caught up. I'd been a runner in college to deal with everything. It was a relief valve, and it slowly made my past decay. Before long, it was gone. No past. All those emotions were just part of teenage drama. One kaleidoscope blur.

Running let me escape. It made me a faster walker, too. Double benefits.

"Hey."

I fell into stride beside her, and she slowed down. I could see in her eyes she had been crying, but the rainwater was like a mask over of the tears. Soaking, black hair hung over her eyes, but I could tell she was avoiding my gaze.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She turned her head away, but kept walking in perfect rhythm with my own feet.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. My name's-"

"No," she said. Her voice was rough and exhausted. "Don't tell me. It's better if I don't know."

"What's better?"

When she didn't answer, I stopped walking for a second and reached behind her towards the brick wall. I brought my hand back around and opened the red umbrella, holding it overtop of us.

"I'm fine," she said, stepping away.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her back under it. "It's no problem, really. I'll just walk you home, if you tell me where you live. Then I'm gone. I promise."