by Smith, A. T
“Stop now, Abigail, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of those things were your fault, everything you did you did for a good reason. Now wipe those bad thoughts away and get yourself out of here, because it’s clear now, real hell is your own conscious ruling you.”
I look above and continue my own personal journey.
“Look angel, its life,” I tell her, smiling into the brightness. It is weird, they say when you die you see the light, but I am seeing the light as I struggle to return to life.
“You’re doing well Abbi, keep going, we can make it.” I know she is just as desperate as me to escape from this uninviting shit heap.
“No, we’re doing it, both of us together.” I tell her, knowing without her strength and guidance I would have remained in that cell, alone, cold, and frightened until eventually I shrivelled up and ceased to exist in every world there was.
“Yeah, we sure are. I can hear them Abbi, they’re calling for you. They need you; they need your help to find Melissa. Do you know who had her sweetheart?” she asks me as I continue to pull myself up the inside of this fiery inferno.
I feel angry suddenly, the horrible images that plague my brain of my last breathing seconds. “Oh god, my father.” I cry a little, if that is possible when you are a dead spirit, but I do. I can feel the salty droplets burning my aching wound, the hole lying rugged and ugly in my shoulder.
“We’ll find him, all of us, but we have to get out of here and quickly Abbi,” she tells me sternly, getting my arse into gear further. I become a speedy rock climber, clearing feet after feet of rugged rock face, my hand stinging and cut to bits, but my determination and utter focus is now on that hole.
“Argghhh!” I growl as I pull us over an overhang rock.
“We’re close Abigail, look, only a few feet to go.” I can hear dogs barking fiercely below us, at least a hundred feet between us. I am proud of myself, pulling myself up this wall and to my freedom so easily.
“Yes, yes, nearly there.” I chant to myself as I clasp the final lip, the edge, the bright light blinding my movements but I don’t care.
“We’re safe Abbi; we’re going to be ok,” the angel tells me as I heave us over the edge and onto the hard floor outside.
I roll onto my back and feel the same numb feeling I felt when I had been shot; the cold, nerveless feeling and I know that isn’t right.
What is wrong with me? I am supposed to be alive and kicking now, with my husband, finding my daughter.
WAKE UP ABIGAIL.
Chapter Five Leighton
“Sir, please, calm down,” the doctor says sternly as I kneel on the floor in a crumpled heap. I am not going to survive this loss; I want to be there with her, cold and icy, but warm and safe in the heavens above where I know her angelic soul will be waiting for me.
“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HER!” I scream at him as I look at his serious face. “YOU FAILED HER!” I shout once more, my tears rapidly falling against my cheeks and soaking my shirt. My tuxedo jacket is somewhere back at the house, but my once crisp, clean white buttoned shirt is now a crimson canvas.
“Sir, calm down please. We need to talk to you about your wife’s condition,” he tells me, making my head shoot up once again.
“Her condition? I, I, I thought she was dead. Oh god. I need to see her.” I wipe my face of tears, pulling myself to my feet.
“Sir, please, before you go we need to talk,” he instructs me, pointing to the chair.
“What’s wrong, why can’t I see her?” I ask nervously.
“There were some complications with the surgery sir. We managed to stem the bleed and stitch that up fine but it seems the bullet has damaged a large majority of her nerves. We tried to reconnect and mend as many as we could but we are afraid that she may not have any movement in her right arm again.” I gasp at his answer. What would Abbi do if she couldn’t use her arm, couldn’t hold our daughter with it?
Fuck it, I am just overjoyed she is alive.
“Okay, I can deal with that. I’ll help her through it. But please, I need to see her,” I beg. My heart had been broken when I had heard that gasp from her mouth, that blood bubbling up from her throat.
“Ok, but please, do not get her riled up, she needs her rest Mr Lock.” He turns and opens the visiting area door for me to walk outside. I follow him through the never ending hallways of the hospital, the white walls all too pristine and perfect compared to my blood stained shirt.
“Other than her arm, she’s going to be okay?” I ask him, my black dress shoes squeaking on the shiny floor as we stride the corridor.
“She should recover fine Mr Lock, but she will need to stay in for observation for a few days, maybe a week. And we will have her on intensive rehab to try and get her arm functioning again,” he informs me and it settles my anxious stomach a little.
“Thank you Doc,” I tell him, following through the double doors that lead to the recovery area.
“God, baby.” I cry as I look to the bed and see Abigail wired up to various machines, her shoulder dressed and her arm in a sling. She is a little less pale than earlier and her body rid of her dress. It makes me sad that I never got to remove it from her the way I should have, enjoying her perfect body.
I walk to her side, her eyes just starting to flitter open as the anaesthetic works its way out of her system. “Hey baby.” I speak to her, kissing her forehead and swiping her hair from her face, still clogged with blood and tears.
She attempts to croak out something but the tube in her throat puts her at a disadvantage.
“One second angel, we’ll get it taken out.” I turn to the doctor who is talking with his team as they sort through my wife’s care. “Could she have the tube taken out, she is trying to talk to me?” I ask them politely, feeling happy that I can look into her blue eyes once again.
“Of course Mr Lock,” the doctor replies, pulling some gloves onto his hands. A nurse assists him, removing the tube from Abbi’s throat, her reflexes kicking in and making her gag.
“Hello Mrs Lock, good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” he asks her, and she looks around blankly. I have known the effect of anaesthetic, it made me feel like I was outside of my body, like I had no control of my movements or recollection of where I was until I was completely awake.
All I can hear is a croak. She looks to me pleadingly, pointing to her mouth. “You thirsty baby?” I ask her, stroking her hair from her face once again. She nods to me, her skin looking more vibrant than it had a few hours back as she took what I thought would be her last breath in my arms.
I help her to sit up, supporting her back and lifting the bed with the control at the same time.
I fill a plastic cup with some water from the jug, handing it over to her. She tries to move her arm to take it from me, but nothing happens. Her eyes flitter nervously and agitatedly from her arm to me, to the water.
Her eyes are begging me to help; it breaks my fragile, cracked heart into a million shards at her desperation. She begins to sniffle, tears pooling and eventually dropping down her cheeks. “Shhh, baby, it’s okay, shhh,” I tell her, standing up from my chair to sit on the edge of the bed.
She drops her head heavily onto my chest and cries, hard, fierce and gut wrenchingly. “Angel, it’s okay. Let it all out.” I soothe her, stroking her hair, twirling it in my fingers for my own benefit to feel that she is real and is here with me.
She eventually lifts her head, her eyes sore and puffy, and her cheeks blotchy and sad. “I love you baby,” I tell her simply as I lean forward and kiss her forehead. I lift the plastic cup to her lips, tipping it back lightly to allow a small trickle of water to enter her mouth.
She sighs as she swallows, clearly feeling better. “Hey,” she says quietly, her mouth in a slight frown.
“You don’t know how good it is to see you,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her head hard. I am crying myself, tears of joy and sadness, trickling from my eyes and onto her hair.
>
“Back at you baby,” Abbi replies, sitting sadly in her bed.
“How you feeling?” I ask her seriously, looking into her eyes for the truth.
“Nothing, I feel nothing Leighton,” she answers me, once again crying.
“Baby, I promise you, you’ll get it back, if it’s the last thing I do, you will feel your arm again.” I hold onto her hand, squeezing gently, even though she can’t feel it, just so she can see I will love her no matter what she looks like or can or can’t do.
“Melissa?” she shouts as she clearly remembers.
“They’re looking for her baby, they have some leads, leave them to it, and they will find her,” I assure her. I know Mel is my daughter and I should be out there with my men, finding her and killing the sick fucker who has taken her, but my wife is my every breath and I have to make sure she is safe and well before I even think of leaving her side.
“You should be with them,” she pleads.
“No, I’m no good there, you need me,” I inform her. There is no way I am going anywhere, anytime soon.
“Please, Leighton, you need to find her. Call them; see if they have any news,” she asks me sweetly, her eyes pleading with me.
“Ok, I’ll be one minute.” I kiss her head and leave her with the doctor as I escape into the corridor to call Tom.
“Leighton,” he says breathlessly into the speaker. “How is she? Please tell me this call is good news.” He sounds panicky.
“She’s alive, they operated, but she’s lost all movement in her right arm with little chance of regaining it. Any news on Mel?” She is the real reason I am calling Thomas.
“Found the guys house, the car has been stolen, the owner was knocked out cold when we arrived. He gave us a quick description of the guy who broke in, Nate is drawing it up now. His car is traceable so we have every camera within 30 miles keeping track of it.” I breathe deeply, this isn’t a good thing. We don’t know what fucked up arsehole has my daughter.
“Okay, just keep at it. I’ll be home tonight so I’ll carry on then. Can you get Nate to bring the drawing down so Abbi can try and identify him? Thanks man.” I hang up the phone and slide it in my pocket.
I brush my hands over my face and then into my hair.
“News?” Abbi asks me as I re-enter. A blood pressure cuff squeezes tightly at her arm, she isn’t flinching whatsoever. It makes me sad that she can’t feel anything there.
“They found the person who owns the car, he gave a description of the guy, and Nate’s bringing a drawing up to see if you recognise him,” I explain to her as I sit back on the edge of the bed.
“No point Leigh, I know who has her,” she says matter-of-factly.
“What, who?” I ask hurriedly. It isn’t exactly information that should be kept from me.
“My father.” My heart stops beating completely at the mention of that animal’s name.
Chapter Six Abigail
“What do you mean your father?” Leighton asks me. I feel fucking shit right now, my head pounds, my skin aches, my arm is numb and that pisses me off even more and now he is looking at me with an anger in his eyes I have only seen once, and it scares the ever living shit out of me.
“My dad, he was at the house. He was the one who shot me. Told me I deserved it,” I tell him blatantly. I have no emotional feeling now. I have had my cry, expelled my upset and now I feel nothing. I don’t care what happens now. I have fought in hell to get back here, but now my brain has shut itself off along with my crumbled heart. I have taken enough hurt in my life that I just don’t think I am capable of taking anymore.
“Abigail, he was in jail, are you sure it was him?” Leighton looks at me like I am crazy, and maybe I am, but I am a hundred percent certain it is him.
“Ergh, yes Leighton, I am not blind. I couldn’t forget his face even after years of trying,” I say angrily. Jesus, like I can mistake that arsehole.
“Sort the attitude out Abigail, your daughter is with that filthy bastard and your acting like you don’t fucking care. Where do you think he has her?” he asks me, getting into my face a little. I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh. I feel as though I am floating further and further away, flying above in the clouds. Jesus this is like some wicked high.
I laugh hysterically, I think the drugs are messing with me, but I feel fucking brilliant, I don’t care what life brings me now.
“You fucking bitch. Sort yourself out Abigail. I’m going home to find our daughter.” He storms from the room. I poke my tongue out like a petulant child at his disregard for me.
“Fuck you too,” I shout, causing every member of the medical team to look at me.
“Mrs Lock, are you ok?” the main doctor asks me as he comes over to check my observations.
“Fucking fantastic Mr Doctor, how are you doing yourself? What’s the weather like out today? I hope it’s sunny, I couldn’t bear to be in the cold. It’s cold now isn’t it, really cold actually. Could I have another blanket please? Ooh, yes, that’d be real nice. You’ll never guess what Doc, my paedophile father has stolen my daughter, oopsie daisy, oh and he did this to me. God what a weird world hey, I swear prisoners escape too easily these days. I should really go home and get her shouldn’t I. Come on up we get,” I ramble, giggling like I have taken shrooms. I try to get up, but I am seeing rainbow technicolor bright lights that are sending me flat onto my arse.
“Mrs Lock, please remain seated,” the doctor says pushing me back down.
“Oh piss off you party pooper.” I laugh again, moving my working arm to my face to see the weird kaleidoscope around it. “Hey, before you go, can you see it, look it’s beautiful; I wonder if I can buy this effect for my everyday life, it’s fun.” I chuckle girlishly again.
“We need to take her back down,” I hear the doctor tell someone else.
“Down under, g’day mate.” I try to say it in my best Australian accent.
“Prep her now,” I hear them say again and I feel hands touching one of my arms, injecting something through my drip.
“Hey, you shouldn’t touch me without Leighton’s permission.” I laugh again as I feel myself falling asleep.
*****
“What you done this time Abigail?” I hear that sweet little voice of my best friend, Angel.
“Where are you silly bum?” I ask her, twirling around trying to find her.
It is bright here, white lights from every direction blinding me. I can feel a softness beneath my feet that makes me want to flop down and roll around in it. It is warm and comfortable here, so much better than that shit hole under the ground.
“Shoulder.” I feel her tapping my head.
Oh that’s right, that one doesn’t work anymore. “Can’t feel there anymore, Angel.” I shrug one shoulder.
“It will get better; you just have to work for it. So what’s happened now?”
“It felt weird Angel, I don’t think I should have gone back. It wasn’t time. I was a bitch; I for sure need to be in hell this time. I laughed at Leighton when he found out where Mel was, god he’s going to hate me. I don’t know what was wrong, Angel,” I explain, feeling lonely and sad.
“I do. Your wound re-opened and started bleeding bad. You were losing consciousness and the lack of oxygen was making you delirious. You will need to make it up to him for sure, but Leighton is a big boy, he’ll understand.” She pats me, calming me a little.
“So, Angel, how the fuck do I get out of here this time? I can’t see a way with those fucking lights blinding me.”
“Ahhh, well, this is my land sweetheart, so let me deal with it this time. We just have to wait until the time is right this time. Sit, let’s relax and enjoy heaven.” I slump to the floor and flop my body out. The soft cloudy floor supports my aching muscles.
“I could get used to this; it’s far more comfortable than that poxy hospital bed you know.” I giggle as Angel chuckles aloud. She is so cute; I wish I could bring her back with me.
“So, your l
essons; don’t get yourself in anymore trouble, and love your baby and husband when they both return to you.”
“Oh yes, I can’t wait to see them both. Do you think they’ll still love me, Angel? I am a pretty shitty wife.” I frown at my behaviour.
“Abigail Lock, it wasn’t your fault. Leighton will understand once the doctors explain what happened. He’s a forgiving man.”
“Yeah, I guess. I just want to see him now and kiss him and tell him I love him,” I sigh, heavily breathing in the clean heavenly air. I hope when I eventually leave this world I will end up back here.
“I know you do, and you will. Soon you will all be back together in that beautiful home of yours.”
“Yeah, home.” I smile as I close my eyes and allow myself to sleep on my cloudy temporary bed.
“Yeah, home.” The Angel repeats as she wallows in her own home.
Chapter Seven Richard
She won’t stop crying. Her high pitched screams bounce off the walls, her tiny body kicking out and flaying arms clinging to me with desperation.
I am dying inside as I realise the extent of what I have done.
“Fuck!” I shout, grabbing my hair tightly, now a little thinned with my age. This is my granddaughter, a tiny innocent little girl, and I have taken her from the protective arms of her mother, a mother who seems to care so much about her.
I know there is something wrong with me, why else would I have bothered tormenting and scaring Abigail for the last three months?
Eight years I have been inside, and believe me it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Losing my wife and soul mate had been a mere walk in the park compared to the continuous replays of my horrific behaviour and the way I had treated my own daughter.
What kind of father does what I did and gets to live to see another day? I sure as hell couldn’t live with the things that I have done. It is killing me slowly and violently inside.