“Abby, please.”
Whitney didn’t let him get any further. “I said leave, Lane!”
He nodded slowly, grabbing his jacket from the arm of the recliner. He walked to the door and stood there for a second before turning to me. “I love you, Abby. Please don’t forget that. I’m so sorry.” He opened the door and stepped through it. The click of the latch was like a hit to my heart.
Whitney and I stood there for a second while I tried to process everything.
“I was going to tell him I loved him today,” I whispered, stunned. I couldn’t stop staring at the door where my heart had just left.
“I gave my heart and soul to him, even if he didn’t know it. I never got the chance to tell him, Whitney.” My voice cracked as the pain came rushing to me all at once.
The tears came faster than I expected. I bent over, unable to stand up straight as I cried, the weight of my sorrow too much to bear. Whitney rubbed my back, murmuring soothing words to me.
Unbidden memories came flashing to me as I stood there and wept. The first time I met Lane all the way up until he told me he loved me.
With that memory in my head, I crumpled to the ground, all my strength gone. I folded my arms around my head, trying to protect myself from Whitney’s gaze.
I wasn’t sure how long I lied on the floor of our living room, crying out all the anguish that was tearing through me. How had it come to this? Why couldn’t Lane see what he was doing? Why didn’t he come back for me?
I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to come back. The things he had said, the anger on his face, all those things tore me to my core.
Eventually, I came out of my stupor to realize Whitney was still sitting beside me, rubbing my back. My head was pounding with the force of my breakdown. My nose was stuffed up, but running profusely, and my head was getting worse by the minute.
“Whitney,” I said sluggishly, my face still pressed into the floor.
“I’m here, Abigail. What do you need?” she answered, leaning down over me.
The pounding in my skull was starting to make its way to the left side of my head, causing me to groan loudly.
“Whitney, it’s happening. My head. Another migraine,” I slurred. My eyes were going blurry.
“Shit, um, okay. Can you stand, and I’ll help you to your bed?” she asked.
I tried moving and slowly got to my hands and knees, hanging my head down against the nausea building in my stomach.
Whitney helped me stand, wrapping her arms around me for support, letting me lean on her. We walked to my room, where I practically fell onto my bed, moaning as another shot of pain lanced through my skull.
“Can I get you anything?” Whitney asked, sounding nervous. It had been a while since she’d had to deal with me and my migraines.
Tears leaked from my eyes as I squeezed them shut, silently praying to pass out soon so I wouldn’t have to feel anything.
“Just stay with me a while?” I whispered, finally feeling darkness steal over me.
I never heard Whitney’s response as I slipped away into nothingness. The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was that I was outside.
What in the hell? I wondered, looking around.
I had seen this place before, weeks ago. I was back in that abandoned city. No cars, no people, just…nothing.
I turned in a circle, hoping for something, but not sure what. That damned payphone was back on its corner, taunting me.
Why was I back here? I had never dreamed during my migraines before. Why now?
The payphone started ringing, making me jump. “Screw you!” I yelled at it. I wasn’t playing this game again.
I started walking up the street, hoping for some clue on how to wake up. Maybe I just had to wait it out. Turning the corner, I froze. Another payphone was on this block, too.
I turned around and crossed the street, walking away from it. But it didn’t matter what I did or how far I walked. That payphone was on every corner I turned on to.
“What do you want from me?” I yelled at the sky. I threw my arms out, turning in a circle. I knew how ridiculous I looked, but I couldn’t help myself.
I walked up to the building I was in front of and tried the door. To my surprise, it opened with ease. Going inside, I looked around. It appeared to be a hotel lobby, a reception desk to my right and an open waiting area on the left, decorated with plush chairs and couches. I could see a dining area to the back, every place fully set with fancy chinaware.
Slowly entering the lobby, I kept glancing around me, not sure of what I was expecting to happen here. I huffed. I shouldn’t be so scared! This was my dream, wasn’t it? I should be able to control what happened here.
Except, deep down, I knew this wasn’t a normal dream. And that scared me.
I walked down the hallway leading to the elevators. Eyeing them warily, I hesitated. Could they get stuck with me on them? I didn’t want to take the risk.
The stairwell was right beside the elevators, and I opened the door. It was pitch black except for the red exit signs glowing at each door.
Creepy, I thought. Never mind.
I turned to head back outside but was blocked by a wall that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Looking around, I noticed the hallway had turned into a tiny room, with no doors. The elevators and stairwell were my only exit.
Chills crept up my spine at this twist. This felt menacing. Like something was playing with me.
Shuddering, I walked to the stairwell door. That was definitely a no-brainer. I wasn’t about to get on that elevator and get stuck. Or worse, be taken somewhere against my will that I couldn’t stop.
Opening the door, I stepped in, letting my eyes adjust to the gloominess. With nothing to prop the door open, I reluctantly let it fall shut. The slam echoed around me, travelling upward.
I put one foot on the first step, looking up to the next floor landing.
“This sucks,” I said, climbing to what I was sure was my doom.
The second-floor door was locked. Looking up, I tried to make out how many more glowing exit signs I could see, but lost track at three. The lights seemed to fade the higher up they were.
I was halfway up the next flight when I heard a scuffing noise below me. I leaned over the railing, trying to place where it was coming from. I heard it again, accompanied by a hissing. It sounded like it was heading my way.
“Oh, hell no,” I said, running up the stairs now.
The hissing was growing louder, and I cried out, imagining whatever thing that noise came from was right behind me. I yanked open the next door, falling to the ground as the door clanged shut behind me.
I gasped for air, huddling on the floor, but the door stayed shut. I risked a glance around. I was in a brightly lit hallway, an endless row of doors to my left and right.
I slowly stood up, using the wall to support me.
“Now what’s going on?” I wondered. When was this nightmare going to end?
I briefly toyed with the idea of playing “eenie-meenie-miney-moe” on which direction to take, but just chose to go to my right instead. I trailed my hand along the wall as I walked, reluctant to try any of the doors.
I heard a phone ringing a few doors down on my left. It completely unnerved me to think that the payphone had followed me up here.
Shadows suddenly crossed in front of me, and I turned around, dread pooling in my stomach.
The lights were shutting off behind me, one by one.
In the back of my head, I knew where I had to go, but I balked at the idea. But I also didn’t want to be in this hallway when those lights went out. Instinctively, I knew I wouldn’t be safe out here once there were no lights left.
A hissing sounded behind me from the shadows, and I gasped. My hands became clammy as fear drove me to the door with the ringing phone.
I eased it open, glancing inside. Looking over my shoulder to make sure nothing was following me, I stepped in, locking the door just to be safe.
/> The room was plain. Just a bed on the right-hand side with a table next to it. I ignored the phone sitting on it. A window was on the wall across from me and I walked to it. I was about five stories up and the same barren landscape I had walked in before faced me again now.
The ringing eventually drew my attention away from the window. Going to stand in front of the phone, I sat down on the bed.
I knew I was just delaying the inevitable. This whole dream world had obviously been designed to lead me to this place.
I picked up the phone, unsure that I wanted to hear what was on the other line.
“H – hello?”
“There’s been no change,” a voice said.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“I suggest extreme actions,” the voice said.
I sat there, trying to decipher the conversation.
“You need to kill that one.”
Kill who? I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it as if it could tell me what kind of conversation I was listening in on.
Who was talking? Who needed to be killed? Was somebody about to be murdered? Somebody I knew? I didn’t want to hear anymore.
I slammed the phone down, scared to listen to more. I laid down on the bed, allowing my emotions to wash over me.
All the tears I had been holding in came gushing out, shocking me by their force. I had held in so much. I sobbed, my chest heaving as I let out all my anger, sadness, and fear. My eyes were starting to feel raw and swollen from me rubbing them, and the pillow was becoming stained with my tears and the drainage from my nose that I couldn’t sniff back.
I drifted into an uneasy sleep, the tears slowing but never ceasing. Small tremors shook me as my breathing started to regulate again.
A hand stroked my hair, comforting me. “Shh, Abigail. You’re okay now. Shh.”
I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, clearing the tears from them. I looked around and saw that I was back in my own room, and Whitney was sitting on the bed beside me.
“Am I awake?” I croaked. I winced, clearing my throat.
Whitney smiled. “Yeah, you are. You’ve been out for a few hours, but I came in when I heard you crying in your sleep. Bad dream?”
I thought back to the crazy experience I had just gone through, ending with the phone voice saying somebody was going to die. Was it a premonition? Or just something my migraine-driven brain had conjured up to torment me?
I nodded, unable to form the words I needed. “Yeah. Bad dream.”
“Well, how about if you’re feeling better, I go and cook you some soup? And I’ll go and get you some headache medicine while I’m out there.”
I nodded again, although I was pretty sure that I didn’t need it. My migraine had passed, and my head felt perfectly fine again. No more blinding fire rushing through it, making me feel completely helpless. I was fine. Just fine.
Wasn’t I?
Whitney got up, patting me on the arm before leaving my room. I slowly rolled over, my stomach still heaving a little as I moved. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and opened it. There were four missed calls and a few texts, all from Lane.
Drawing on the courage I wasn’t totally sure I had, I opened his text messages.
Lane: I’m so sorry. Please forgive me
Lane: I just need to know if you’re okay
Lane: I’ve tried calling, but no answer. Or maybe that is your answer?
The last one was from about thirty minutes ago.
Lane: I just called Whitney. She said you were down with a migraine. I can’t help but feel like that’s my fault.
I snorted.
You were so upset when I left. I said horrible things to you. Things that should have never crossed my thoughts. I’m just scared. Scared for you and scared of the depths of my feelings for you. I’ve never felt so much for someone before. You take my breath away with everything you do and say. I love you. I can’t begin to tell you how so very sorry I am. Please, please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you.
I wiped away a few tears that had fallen as I read Lane’s apology. I wasn’t sure I was ready to forgive him though. I decided to wait until tomorrow to write him back. I needed a clear head, and I knew I would write with my emotions if I texted him now.
Soon enough, Whitney came back with soup for me to eat. I managed to eat about half of it and gave the bowl back to her.
“There now, just rest. You should be okay by morning.”
I laid back down and let Whitney cover me up. But I knew I wasn’t going to be fine.
Because somebody was going to die.
Chapter Eight
Breakfast the next morning was a melancholy affair. I stared dejectedly into my bowl of cereal, scooping it up and letting it plop back off my spoon.
“Okay, enough, this is too depressing.” I heard Whitney say. “Have you not talked to Lane yet?”
I shook my head, both to answer her and to keep my tears at bay. I had shown her his messages earlier, hoping for some insight on what I should do next. She hadn’t been much help.
“Maybe you should just answer him. He seems really sorry.”
I glared at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side, remember? Besides, he said some horrible things. He just deals with me and my issues.”
I pushed away my cereal, too upset to try to keep pretending to eat. Standing up, I took it to the sink and poured it out.
“Are you ever going to put him out of his misery?”
I hung my head, tears pricking my eyes while I took in a shallow breath. Sniffing lightly, I said, “I will. I don’t know when or how. But I will.”
Whitney just watched me, waiting to see what I would do next.
“I’m fine, Whit. Trust me. I just want to go to work and forget any of this ever happened.” I wiped my hands off on a towel and turned to her. “How am I supposed to get over this though? How do I just forget he said those things?” Heat rushed through my eyes and nose as more tears appeared.
Whitney stood up and came over, embracing me. “It’s hard. Once things are said, they can’t be taken back. Good or bad. And what he said, those weren’t good things. But I think they were also said emotionally and in the heat of the moment. He loves you Abigail. Take the time to hear him out and make him apologize in person. You deserve that much, and so does he.”
I nodded. “You’re right. Maybe I can see if he wants to meet for lunch or something.”
Whitney patted me on the shoulder. “Great idea. Now go clean up and get ready for work. Wear something hot so he can feel even worse.”
I laughed, happy to be feeling a little better. “You’re brilliant. I’m going to go find something to wear.”
Which was apparently easier said than done. I had been standing inside of my closet for almost ten minutes trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. I sighed, wishing I could go shopping before work. Finally, I grabbed my black pencil skirt and a turquoise, silky button-up shirt. My black heels would complete the outfit.
After putting on some makeup, I grabbed my work bag and headed back out to the living room. Whitney looked up from the couch and whistled at me. “You look hot! And that skirt,” she said, giving me the A-Okay sign with her fingers. “You’ll definitely knock him dead.”
I turned around and stuck my butt out at her. “So, you’re saying I should accidentally drop something and pick it up in front of him?” I laughed.
Whitney laughed and shook her head. “Hey, whatever it takes to make him feel even worse!”
I waved goodbye and left, driving to work. Heading to my desk, I unloaded my bag, setting everything up just as I liked it. Satisfied, I turned to my phone, re-reading Lane’s messages.
Me: I got your messages. Do you want to meet for lunch?
Now just to wait. My stomach was in knots waiting for his reply. It was really starting to make me feel sick. Maybe I should have eaten more for breakfast. Or more than just cereal. I definitely needed a heartier meal before I tried to face Lan
e.
Laying my head in my hands, I took a deep breath. “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” I chanted, trying to convince myself that it was true. Why was this so hard for me? Probably because I had never been in love with someone before, and I didn’t care so much about fights with previous boyfriends.
My phone chimed, startling me out of my misery.
Lane: I would love to do lunch. When can we meet?
I looked at my clock, debating on how long it would take me to finish my work before I could leave to eat.
Me: How about we meet around one? I don’t think I can get out of here before then
Lane: That’s perfect. I hope you’re doing okay
I stared at his message, unsure of how to respond. Yes, I was fine, so I wasn’t affected by his outburst last night. No, I wasn’t fine, so I was breaking down and crying over him. This was not a win-win situation for me.
Me: I’m as okay as I can be
That would have to do for now. I couldn’t trust myself to keep texting and not spill my guts to him. That would have to wait until I could see him in person at lunch.
I didn’t hear any more from Lane, thankfully. It helped me concentrate on my work. Whitney sent me a few texts asking if I was okay, plus another picture of her co-worker, Luke. This time it was a selfie of them together and not a sneaky one.
I smiled at it and texted her a thumbs-up back. It seemed like she was making progress with him if he was in her pictures now and not just in the background.
At 12:45, I was able to slow things down and come to a stopping point so I could leave. Instead, I just sat there, working up the nerve to go meet Lane. My mouth was dry, and my palms were sweating just thinking about it. Wiping my hands off, I shakily stood up. I can do this. I can do this, I thought to myself, hoping to give myself the courage to keep my head up tall.
The elevator seemed to speed down to the first floor faster than normal, but I knew that was probably just my imagination. As I stepped out, I realized too late that Lane and I had never agreed on a place to meet. How stupid of me. I got my phone out and started writing him a text asking him where to meet.
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