Abbie remained silent. If Jonah was safe, the bullet would’ve sounded like an appealing option. She prayed to survive the showdown; her son needed her. She was all he had left in this world.
Rapid footsteps.
The pounding of a single pair of boots against the creaky wooden staircase seeped into the room. Molina moved hard and fast, and she would be upon them in seconds. Abbie tensed her jaw and took in deep breaths through her nose. She had to warn Molina that she was heading into an ambush. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut short by the clear-cut signal. Fiona pressed her index finger pressed against her puffy lips, her long black fingernail reaching up to her nose. With her other hand, she pressed the barrel of the Glock against her own temple. She pretended to pull the trigger and bounced her head against the side of her shoulder, the matted blonde wig flailing in the air. The gesture left nothing to the imagination.
Abbie had no choice but to trust Molina’s instincts. She intertwined her fingers, not taking her eyes off the iron door. Molina was courageous and decisive in these situations, something Abbie had personally witnessed at the drifter’s home. Now, mere seconds from all hell breaking loose, she hoped that Molina would display the same level of ruthlessness.
“Abigail, there’ll be justice for my daughter today,” Molina said, her voice echoing through the dank and faintly lit corridor, piercing the eerie silence.
Abbie fidgeted in her seat, seeking a way to signal Molina. But Fiona’s fiery glare deterred her from calling out. It would be suicide. There has to be another way. The only audible sound was Molina’s boots shuffling along the corridor, seeking their location. Abbie shifted her feet closer together, creating a slight rhythmic rattle with the chains, not taking her eyes off the entrance. She avoided Fiona’s glare; it was too late for regret. Immediately, the rapid thumping of Molina’s boots could be heard heading in their direction. The iron handle twisted up and down hard. Abbie shut her eyes and braced for the impending slaughter. Molina must get this done.
The handle of the door jolted again, this time rougher. Abbie opened her eyes. The door wouldn’t budge. Fiona had locked it. A thick, eerie silence descended on the room once more, a momentary respite from the commotion. Abbie glanced at Fiona, whose broad, round face twisted in a sinister smile with no hint of tension. Something was seriously wrong. There was no logical reason for her confidence.
Fiona outstretched an open palm with the pager Molina had provided.
“No,” Abbie screamed, realizing the ambush.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The ear-splitting sound of bullets hitting the iron door reverberated through the room. The door handle spun through the air and hit the floor with a loud clank. A pungent, smoky odor wafted into Abbie’s nostrils as the door flung open, and Molina charged inside.
Bang. Bang. Bang . . .
Darkness.
CHAPTER 38
The Glock trembled in her hand, the sweet burning taste of nitroglycerin assaulting her senses. The smoke had barely cleared from the barrel. She rubbed her burning, watering eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her blurred vision. Syrupy blood covered her bare feet and pooled around her. As the smoke cleared, the sweet metallic smell of human blood hung in the air.
“Abigail . . .” The whimper came from behind her.
She turned around slowly, noticing Molina lying on the floor and bleeding profusely. She dropped to her knees and cradled Molina’s head, wiping away the blood spewing from her mouth. “Oh God, no, please . . . hold on, Agent Molina,” Abbie pleaded.
Molina grabbed Abbie’s throat in desperation, her breathing labored. “Why . . . my . . . daughter?” Molina said, the words barely distinguishable through the death rattle. No sooner had the words escaped her lips that her bloody hand slid off Abbie’s throat and her breathing stopped altogether. Her eyes remained open, staring blankly into space, the rage and spark dissipating into the eternal emptiness.
“Molina, get up, please,” Abbie screamed, urging her to hold onto life. Tears streamed down her cheeks—agent Molina was dead. She sobbed, cradling the body, swaying back and forth. She lowered Molina’s head onto the bloody surface and shut her eyelids with her palm. “Rest in peace, brave soul,” she said out loud. She remained on her knees, staring at the shaky gun in her hand.
What the hell happened?
A muffled sound came from the other side of the room. She dragged herself to her feet and swiveled around the room, pointing the gun, searching for Fiona. Instead, she noticed a man seated in a metal chair, his arms and ankles chained, his head covered with a black hood.
“Who’re you?” Abbie said, calling out to him. In return, she got a muffled response, indicating that the man’s mouth was taped. Her bare feet waddled through the tacky blood as she approached him, the gun trembling in her hands. She stood over him and watched his chest heaving up and down, desperately sucking in air. Without a second thought, she pulled off the hood.
“Robert . . .” She said his name out loud to grasp, reaffirming that it was him. She ripped the duct tape from his mouth. “What’s going on?”
He coughed and took in deep gulps of air, regaining his breath. “Abbie, honey, oh, thank God it’s you. Please unlock the chains.” He stretched out his chained wrists, his face pale and vulnerable.
“Where’s Fiona?” Abbie said, scanning the room like a hunted animal, expecting Fiona to pounce on her at any moment.
“My God, you’ve no idea, do you?”
“No idea about what? You know how many times I’ve heard that already?”
“Honey, you’re sick, extremely sick. It’s my fault. I don’t know how I missed it. There’s no Fiona. She exists in your mind, forming an altered reality. It’s only you,” Robert said, pained by every word.
Abbie choked. That one sentence shattered her existence. She pointed the Glock at his forehead. “You’re lying! You’re a monster, and Fiona is your serial killer lover. Tell me the truth, God damn it, or I’ll . . .”
“You’ll do what? You’re not a murderer. This isn’t your fault, you have a condition, and I can help you.” He paused and composed himself, tears welling up in his eyes. “Fiona is one of your alternate personalities. She’s dangerous, but with treatment, we can minimize or eradicate her from your mind. I have experience in these types of cases.”
Abbie stepped away from him, shaking her head in disbelief. If what Robert said was true, she was a psychopath serial killer.
“Abbie, please don’t let Fiona back in. Please! She’ll slaughter me.”
She kept stepping backward, her gun pointed at his chest.
“Abigail, listen to me, please. You’re the host, and she’s the alter personality. Do not invite her in. Do not switch. I’m begging you, stay with me.”
“No . . . no . . . you’re lying. Fiona, where are you?”
“Don’t do this. Think about Jonah. If she comes back I’m dead,” Robert said, beseeching her for mercy. He was a shadow of his former self, a broken man.
“Fiona!” Abbie shouted, this time with greater force.
“Yes, my child.” Fiona’s voice echoed through the room.
Abbie turned to her left, Fiona was less than three feet away, her blonde wig a red tangled mess, smothered in tacky blood.
“This isn’t possible. What’s happening to me?” Abbie said, her voice cracking with emotion.
“We’re a team. I told you that. You’re a weak, broken soul. My job has always been to protect you,” Fiona said.
“Who’re you talking too? Is that her?” Robert said, his voice quivering in fear.
Abbie ignored him, his voice sounding distant and aloof. “I don’t believe you. You’re a monster,” she said to Fiona.
“I used you to kill your sister. She saw what happened to you on the farm and did nothing to stop it. She didn’t say a word to anyone.”
The
images flashed through Abbie’s mind. “No . . . stop it!”
“She was also a drug addict and burden for your ailing Mama. There’s always a price to pay.”
Abbie remained rooted to the spot, processing Fiona’s words. Her entire body shaking. She was more confused and frightened than she had ever been in her life.
“You were always there with me, my child. You fought me valiantly, and that’s why I had to push you to the dark. But you were there.”
The scenes of the young girls being tattooed and mutilated flooded Abbie’s mind like an unedited reel from a horror movie. She vomited in disgust, pinkish bile spewing from her mouth. “Why?” she said, hunched over.
“Revenge.”
“Revenge, for what?”
“Your childhood, the relentless bullying. You were a weak child, but not anymore. I fixed that the hard way.” Fiona smiled, no trace of remorse in her voice. “The tatts were one of my better ideas, something to eternalize Mama.”
The room swirled, the searing pain in Abbie’s temples was unbearable. She dropped to one knee, the pinkish bile spurting from her mouth onto the green epoxy floor.
“Take in deep breaths through your nose. Exhale and relax your belly after each breath. You’ll be fine,” Fiona instructed.
The persistent urge to vomit gradually eased, and she regained a steady breathing rhythm. “What about the drifter? He’s the killer. I saw the photos.”
“I planted the photos on the kitchen table. The drifter was a decoy for Molina to get her off our back. Buy some time.”
Abbie shut her eyes, seeing her hands spreading the photos on the drifter’s table. It all flooded back.
“Molina mistreated you, and her daughter paid the price. You’re my child. An eye for an eye,” Fiona said as if reading Abbie’s mind, answering the questions popping into her mind before she could ask.
“Your child? You tortured me with Dr. Falk. That was real. I felt it. You’re a psychopath.”
“Dr. Falk was weak, just like you. So I got rid of him. You, I can’t get rid of. But I can strengthen you through the tribulation. I don’t just show you the pain that we inflict on our victims. I make you feel it.”
Abbie dragged herself to her feet, spitting the remnants of bile onto the floor. She tightened her grip on the Glock and stampeded toward Fiona, stopping inches from her face. She raised the barrel and pressed it against the underside of her own chin. “But I can get rid of you, of us both. One click, that’s all. Boom!”
“Oh, exciting.” Fiona cooed with a sadistic cackle. “I thought you’d say that. I’m inside your head, and you still don’t get it. Yes, you can pull that trigger and kill us both. But Robert will never find Jonah. Only I know where he is.”
“Damn it!” Abbie lowered the gun. “Leave my boy out of this. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to kill Robert?”
“What? Why?” Abbie said, perplexed. It was precisely as Robert predicted. Fiona wanted him dead. “Robert isn’t responsible for anything. He isn’t your lover, and you’re not his patient. You created that scene in my head!”
“What I showed you earlier ain’t far from the truth. You know how many times we switched while making love to Robert. I think he knew all along that he had Fiona.”
Bang.
Abbie fired the Glock in Fiona’s direction. Nothing.
“You were right for a change,” Fiona smirked. “The only way you’ll get rid of me is if that bullet goes in your skull.”
“Damn you! Leave him alone. He knew nothing. He’s my husband.”
“The night you don’t remember, we made love. He said it himself that it was special. You heard him.”
“Fiona, please. We love each other. He’s innocent and only wants the best for Jonah and me.”
“Innocent or not, he knows the truth now. We can’t let him leave here alive. He’ll go to the police.”
“Tell me where my son is and let him go with his dad. It’s the end of the road for us. Nobody else gets hurt,” Abbie said, lifting the gun toward her own temple.
“Everything I’ve done was to protect you, my child. This is the only way that you and Jonah can lead a normal life . . . Robert must die.”
CHAPTER 39
Abbie hung her head in resignation. “I can’t do it,” she said. Robert was the only person who had stuck with her from the beginning. He loved her so much that it clouded his judgment, causing him to misdiagnose her condition with fatal consequences. For better or worse, he was her husband.
“It’s Robert or the boy. There’s no other option,” Fiona said, her tone cold and emotionless. “If you don’t do this, no one will ever find your son.”
Abbie stared at the blood-soaked floor; she had so much blood on her hands. This had to end. If she could only put the bullet through her skull, it’d be all over. Nobody else would get hurt. But first, she had to tell Robert where to find their son. There had to be a way to coerce the information from Fiona. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize her last memories from the cabin. The last time she saw Jonah was at the dinner table. Then Robert put him to sleep. After the sharp pain to the back of the skull, she had woken up here. Fiona had shut her out, keeping her in the dark. She had no inkling of whether Jonah was still sleeping in his room or whether Fiona had kidnapped him. She had also lost track of time. Was she in the dark for a few hours? Was it still the same night? Or had a few days or weeks passed? The first time Fiona went on an extensive killing spree, Abbie had been in the dark for almost two years. Only occasionally was she allowed to be in the light, and it was mostly to experience the self-torture inflicted by her demonic alternate personality. Suicide would no doubt rid the world of a monster, but Jonah would pay the price. “I can’t . . .”
“Do it then, you coward. Kill us both. I’m ready. Pull the trigger and put us out of our misery. You’re not strong enough to survive in this world. I failed us, but you failed as a mother,” Fiona said.
Abbie ground the barrel of the Glock against her temple and gritted her teeth. If she saved Jonah, there would be other victims. Fiona would never stop. Do it! Damn it! Her finger tightened around the trigger. Wait, maybe there’s another way!
“Put me in the dark, and you take care of Robert. I don’t want to bear witness to it,” Abbie finally conceded. She had no choice. In the devil’s chambers, she had to play by the devil’s rules. Robert would have never allowed Jonah to pay the price.
“That’s not possible. You must prove that you’re strong enough to protect your son at all costs,” Fiona said.
“Prove to whom?” Abbie screamed, engulfed by tears.
“Prove to yourself. There’s no other way. Robert knows about me, and he’ll put you away. They’ll do horrific things to you. I can’t let that happen. Finish this, and I’ll go into the dark forever.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m protecting you. Do this, and I’ll leave you and Jonah alone. My job will be complete.”
“How do you even know that you’re able to disappear into the dark?”
“I took care of Dr. Falk, didn’t I? He’s never coming back. I can do the same.”
Abbie lowered the Glock and turned to face Robert’s shivering frame. The stakes had changed.
“Abbie, baby, please don’t do this. I know you can hear me. Don’t let Fiona do this,” he pleaded.
She strode toward him, floating with each step like the angel of death. She inhaled air in short bursts, trying to ease the adrenalin flowing through her veins. She stopped above him and leaned down, kissing him gently on his cold, quivering lips. “I love you, darling.”
“Abbie, is that you?”
She ran a hand through his hair and along his stubbled cheek. “Yes, it’s me, my love. Thank you for always being by my side. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, pressing her lips against his forehead
.
“Oh, thank God, Abbie. How did you . . .”
Bang.
A single muffled shot rang out with the barrel pressed against his chest, his body recoiling with the penetration of the bullet. Hunched over, he fell sideways onto the floor, his wrists and ankles still chained to the metal chair.
Abbie watched his body convulse in pain like a fish out of water, flopping against the epoxy surface until he lay still, death ending his torment. She wiped the tears from her eyes. To beat the beast, she had become one.
“Well done, my child.” Fiona’s voice bounced off the walls.
“Where’s my son?” Abbie screamed.
Fiona appeared in front of her, dressed in a bright-red evening gown, with a lavish layer of makeup applied to her face like an eccentric drag queen. She wore her regular high heels, her limbs clean, with no sign of blood.
“We should celebrate, shouldn’t we?” Fiona said, pouting her puffy lips, prancing around the room.
“Please, I did as you told me. Where’s Jonah?”
“He’s at the cabin, in his room, fast asleep. It’s only been four hours,” Fiona said.
The image of Jonah sleeping under the duvet flashed through Abbie’s mind. Fiona wasn’t lying. “What about our agreement?” Abbie said.
“A deal is a deal. Take care of your son, and if ever you need me, well . . . you know where to come calling . . .”
“I won’t,” Abbie interjected.
“By the way, if you get a message from the handsome Dr. Kyle, don’t be surprised,” Fiona said.
“You mean the OHSU doctor? Why would he message me?”
“I, or should I say we . . . have a weakness for doctors. He’s an amazing lover,” Fiona said, pouting her lips. “Maybe you can start a new family, who knows?”
“You’re a monster. All I want is to be free from you,” Abbie said, tightening her finger around the trigger. She was done with the games, resolving to shoot herself if Fiona didn’t meet her part of the deal. She would call the police first and inform them of Jonah’s location. However much it pained her to leave him orphaned, and in foster care, she had to get rid of Fiona. Otherwise, she would be a danger to him and the world.
Eye For Her: A gripping must-read thriller Page 23