Minds in a Knot (Updating)

VIII, Rage

"Abby....?"

With scrutinizing eyes, Izzy turned to Abby right after he had been startled at the sight of her behind the wall. He was perplexed and shocked at the same time. When his heart skipped a beat from an overwhelming adrenaline rush, his mind, too, was in a jumble as he saw Abby. It happened simultaneously and it led his mind to a short, blank pause that slowed his duration to provide an appropriate reaction.

Oddly enough, as a response to the confusing pandemonium, Abby's pulse raced and her body quivered fleetingly. The twitches of her lips crept up to the corners of her eyes. She opened her mouth, but no words seem to come out. Not a syllable nor a sound of a pronunciation of a letter worked up in her vocal chord.

-That was how she imagined the scene to be if she had blew her cover to Izzy.

Before Izzy made a turn around the corner, an idea struck Abby like lightning. Thinking fast, she hid behind the nearest stairs that had a pathway which led her behind the stone walls, towards the lawn of a modern looking house. The trees had also joined forces in keeping Abby away from sight, providing leafy shades that enhanced Abby's attempts in camouflaging herself. The rustling of the winds that brushed through the leaves cancelled the forcefully suppressed gasps of air that Abby took. The lawn was a private property, but:

1) It was for her own good, and she tried to save her own life from being hated or being left to be an outcast, like a point in a graph that lies far away from the line of best fit, or a stump, that had detached from a cliff which protrudes and extends towards the sea. The place she hid was a good place to avoid this.

2) The owner of the house was not there, presumably because there were no cars occupying the neat looking garage. No bikes no motorcycles or any form of transportation. The lights were off too.

and 3) The people living there were friends of Abby's dad whose faces she could vaguely remember. She gave a nick name to the owner back then; Reversed Mohawk, because his hair declined in a hilarious way.

The footsteps stopped, but Abby had too much experience in hiding and from watching horror movies, and indeed, she did not get fooled; She held her breath to minimize the sounds produced, and her habit came into play, too; She bit her lower lip partially and drove her irises to the corner of her eyes at one side in the direction of the footstep. Abby did not find the waiting part to be thrilling, although she did applaud for her own decision to hide, silently. As the seconds flew by, the ominous foot steps faded after every thud with the ground. 

She sighed in relief, the struggle was finally over. She peeked over her shoulder just to make sure that the surroundings were absolutely clear of moving bodies, she scanned the place twice, not wanting to draw attention from drivers of the cars that passed by. After the last car swooshed by, she walked out of the lawn and shook the dust off of her shirt.

To her, it had been an insane hair-raising experience derived from impetuous decisions. As she walked past the trees and cars, she pondered over what Izzy was up to. As precisely sharp as her genes had boosted her brain cells to be, guessing possibilities or probabilities that had no clues were never her favorite mysteries to solve. She thought hard as she ambled her way through the pathways that would have eventually brought her to her home. For the whole duration of her walk, she was somewhat unmindful of her surroundings, except for the sound of engines that roared in dissimilar rumbles.

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The moment she had slid out her shoe and placed it in the cabinet that was designated for footwear,  she decided to rush up into her room. The silence stimulated her concentration, and it amplified her chances to come closer to an understanding.