Delusions

by Amy Crandall

  The group stood. Bethany pulled Mike into a hug, her gaze on Abigale the whole time. She was sending another message to her: He’s mine.

  Abigale didn’t need another reminder, but she was given one anyway when the two kissed for much longer than necessary. No, Abigale wasn’t staring. She’d simply looked back to the table after tossing out her granola bar wrapper. When she turned to leave the cafeteria with Julia and Rachel, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Bethany and Mike finally joined them.

  Why did she care so much what Bethany thought? She didn’t like Mike, she’d just met him, for crying out loud! But when Mike came up beside her, though his hand was in Bethany’s, the light feeling in her stomach returned.

  She refocused her thoughts on Julia, who was babbling on about something to do with one of the teachers at the school, and how much she despised him. Rachel was also engaged in the conversation, nodding every now and then, but didn’t give any input.

  “Who is the teacher?” Abigale asked, curious.

  “Mr. Harden. You’re extremely lucky if you don’t have him for any of your classes. He’s an asshole.” Julia shook her head. “He gave me an F on a paper because I added my thoughts on the author of this book he wanted us to read. His exact words to me were that he didn’t want to hear about how much I didn’t like his writing style. I think he was just offended I didn’t like his favorite author.”

  Abigale laughed. “Probably.”

  “Anyway, my class is down this hallway. I’ll talk to you later, Abigale?”

  “Yes,” she replied, flashing her a brief smile. “See you later!”

  Gradually, the group parted. Bethany split next, though not before giving Mike another long kiss. Abigale stood with Rachel, who appeared to be equally uncomfortable. Once she left, Mike muttered an apology, explaining that she didn’t usually act like this. Abigale knew it was because of her, but she didn’t want to tell Mike that.

  “What class do you have, Abigale?” Rachel asked.

  Abigale looked down at the schedule resting on top of her binder. “Um, I have pre-calculus with Ms. Borden. Where is that exactly?”

  Mike laughed. “I’m afraid you passed right by her class a little while ago. It’s down there.”

  He pointed to the direction in which they came, and Abigale groaned, her shoulders sagging. “Oh, yay.”

  “Do you want us to walk with you?” asked Rachel.

  Abigale shrugged them off. “Nah, it’s okay. I can find my way. See you guys later?”

  “Of course,” Rachel replied. “Have fun in class.”

  “I’ll try.”

  ***

  Abigale threw open the door to her new home, completely exhausted. Her mother had called during her last class of the day, informing her she was going to have to walk home since she had been invited out to dinner with a new friend she’d made. Abigale bet any money it was a guy who’d taken an interest in her mother’s good looks and spunky attitude.

  It bothered her. What if it really was a guy, like she suspected? That would mean her mother was going out on a date. And she was still married. Although, moving away so abruptly without saying good-bye seemed to be something like a divorce.

  Abigale pushed the thoughts out of her mind. No, her mother would never go out with a guy, especially right now when she’d just moved to a new town. There was no way.

  She threw down her school bag and rubbed her aching shoulder. Who knew that two textbooks could be so heavy?

  It was a five minute drive to the school, but a twenty-minute walk according to Google Maps. Abigale, already exhausted from her classes, made it home in thirty-five minutes. The heavy bag she had slung over her shoulder didn’t help her speed in any way.

  After slipping off her sneakers and tossing them carelessly in the corner, she pulled out her phone from her back pocket. She’d received two text messages over the course of the hour: one from her mother and one from Tiffany.

  The one from Tiffany asked how Abigale’s first day had been and reminded her to call her when she got home. She sent a swift text back, telling her she’d call a little bit later. She didn’t feel like talking about her day. She was too hungry.

  Abigale read her mother’s text message and sighed loudly. She wasn’t going to be home until at least nine, which meant Abigale would have to scavenge for food herself. Since her mother hadn’t gone shopping yet, she decided to order a pizza.

  After looking up the number to a pizzeria near her home, Abigale placed the order for a medium ham-and-cheese pizza and threw herself down onto the couch, which had been set in the middle of the front room by the movers. She figured she and her mother would be doing some decorating that weekend.

  Abigale set her phone on her stomach and rubbed her hands over face. She was exhausted. Her brain was sluggish, not alert. An axe murderer could enter through the back door and end her life right there, and she’d be too tired to respond.

  Her phone vibrated against her taut stomach, but she ignored it. Her eyelids felt so heavy she didn’t bother to check who’d contacted her. Letting her eyes close, she fell asleep listening to the sound of her own breathing.

  THE INTERROGATION

  PART THREE

  June 25, 2015, 9:46 P.M.

  Case No. 20150625-04

  As the dark, confining walls of the house disintegrated around her, Abigale’s eyes met the wide ones of Detective Collins. He was perched on his toes at her side, his hand gripping her shoulder. Relief flooded the contours of his face when he noticed she’d returned to the interrogation room.

  “Ms. Fern,” he said with relief in his voice, “are you okay? What happened?”

  Her eyes darted around the room, much lighter than that of his house, and Abigale realized they weren’t alone. Two other detectives, including the one that had visited Collins earlier to deliver some pressing news, stood a few feet away. They watched her with curious eyes, but no concern donned their features. She shrank further into the cool tile.

  “Ms. Fern?”

  Abigale flicked her tongue over her dry lips. The visions she’d been immersed in only moments earlier had dissipated into the back of her mind and her pulse slowed. She hoped they’d never return, but alas, she was a fool for thinking it.

  “Ms. Fern?” Detective Collins repeated.

  She met the eyes of the detective, whose gaze reflected alarm. “Are you okay? What happened? What did you—”

  “Collins, stop! Can’t you see the poor girl is trying to calm down? Don’t bombard her,” a detective, one Abigale had never seen before, said in a commanding tone. He wore an expensive-looking suit and stood with his arms folded in front of him. His cool eyes regarded her, a slight grimace present. She knew who he was before Collins said anything.

  “I apologize, Agent Ross,” the detective muttered, rising to his feet. He offered a hand to Abigale, but she didn’t take it.

  She remained on the cold, hard floor, her thoughts racing. The FBI was here? Why? What interest would the FBI have in her?

  Her pulse accelerated again with no intention of calming. She was scared, but for different reasons. Was her mom all right? What about her dad?

  “Abigale?”

  She turned to catch a glimpse of the speaker. It was the agent, his lips still pressed into a thin line. He showed no worry or concern, not even a speck of remorse for the poor girl lying on the floor. She instantly despised him.

  “My name is Special Agent Ross. I work with the FBI.”

  Abigale’s heartrate rose further as he scrutinized her. At that point she figured everyone could see right through her carefully thought out facade.

  “I know you’re probably confused as to why I’m here, but I’ve been called in to help you. Certain events have occurred, and I’m here to make sure you remain safe.”

  Abigale slowly sat up, ignoring Detective Collins’ hand. “Where’s my mother? She’s going to be here soon, right?”

  Agent Ross’ face morphed into something other than
his usual cold stare: pity. A chill slowly crawled up her spine. “W…where is she?”

  The three men eyed her warily. They didn’t want to tell her the news. By their silent exchange of glances, the flickering of the eyes, and the slow nods, Abigale didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer to her question.

  “Abigale, I don’t feel that now would be the best time to answer those questions. You need to calm down first and tell us everything from start to finish. I know this may be hard for you, but we cannot help you unless you tell us. I’m sure Detective Collins has already explained all this to you?”

  Collins nodded. “I have.”

  Abigale shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Where is my mom? What did he do to her?”

  More glances were exchanged. It was driving Abigale up the wall. Didn’t they recognize that their long silences were only frightening her more?

  “Abigale, I don’t think it would be wise to discuss this with you right now.”

  Her heart sank into her stomach at Agent Ross’ words. Was he trying to tell her that something was terribly wrong with her mom? Why wasn’t he saying that she was okay? Why was he hesitating?

  Abigale’s mind flashed back to that night and she shuddered. The blood…all that blood. Had her mother survived? She did. Surely, she did.

  “Please,” Abigale whispered, her voice cracking. “Please tell me. Where is she?”

  Agent Ross cast his eyes downward and sighed. “She’s gone, Abigale. I’m so sorry.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Abigale awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the otherwise vacant home. She shot up from the couch like Usain Bolt, despite her pounding heart. The doorbell had interrupted her dreaming so brusquely that she woke up with anxiety.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming!” she called. The doorbell rang once more as she raced over, pulling the door open without checking who it could be.

  Luckily for her, it was only the pizza being delivered. Her heart sank when she didn’t find Mike standing there.

  “I am so sorry,” Abigale apologized, out of breath. “How long were you out here?”

  The delivery guy, with a mop of dark hair hidden under his ball cap, looked amused. “Not long. Are you all right, miss?”

  She nodded, pulling a small wad of cash out from the front pocket of her jeans. “Yes. I dozed off and the doorbell startled me. I’m fine.”

  Abigale was too out of it to realize that she should have been nervous around the stranger. Normally she was always on edge around new people, but as she stood in the doorway with the money in hand, she didn’t feel worried at all. Maybe it was the fact that she had just woken up, or perhaps she was just more confident after a day of being in a new school. It didn’t matter either way.

  Abigale passed the boy the cash.

  “Thank you,” he said, placing the box into Abigale’s arms. She smiled, despite the fact that the scalding cardboard was burning her arms. “Have a good day.” She backed away from the door, kicking it shut with her foot.

  She walked to the dining room, where she placed the pizza on the counter. Rubbing her arms to cool her warm skin, she went to the kitchen for a plate and a glass of water.

  Humming quietly to herself, she re-entered the dining room with the plate tucked under her arm and the glass held up to her mouth. She hadn’t recognized how thirsty she’d been until the cool liquid hit her tongue. Setting the plate down at the table, she returned to the kitchen to refill her empty glass. When she came back, however, her plate wasn’t where she’d left it. It was all the way across the table, far away from the pizza box Abigale had set it near.

  Her hum died in her throat. She set the glass on the counter, fleeing to the kitchen, where she snatched up the sharpest knife she could find from the cardboard box labeled “cutlery”.

  “Hello?” she called out, scanning every room as she trod through the empty house searching for an intruder. The eerie quietness made the hairs on the back of Abigale’s neck stand on end. She knew it wasn’t her mother who moved the plate. She would have entered the house soundly, calling out to Abigale and asking how her first day of school went. She wouldn’t have moved a plate to the far end of the table and hid somewhere to scare Abigale. Her mother wasn’t like that.

  She gripped the knife handle tighter, her hand trembling. The plate had been moved, and whoever moved it had to be in the house. The door hadn’t been opened, and no windows were smashed.

  It frightened her. Abigale didn’t even think to get someone on the phone so they would know if anything happened. All she could think about was the fact that she might have to stab someone if they were there to harm her, and she wouldn’t be able to summon the courage to pull that off.

  After searching the main floor from top to bottom, Abigale ascended the flight of stairs leading up to her bedroom. Her hand shook more violently the higher she went. There was only one way down, and if she had to run and the stairs were blocked off…

  Abigale started with her mother’s bedroom, making sure not to turn her back on any doors or closets. She was terrified. The only sound in the entire house was of her own breathing, shallow and fast. She was nearly hyperventilating. Anyone who could hear her would know she was frightened.

  After determining her mother’s room was clear, she proceeded to enter her own room. The door was slightly ajar; not how she left it when she departed for school that morning.

  Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears now. What if the intruder was in her room? Hiding? Waiting for her to open the door, completely oblivious to the person hiding out in her home?

  Abigale raised the knife threateningly and threw open the door. From what she could tell, nothing had moved since she’d left that morning. The sleeping bag was still where she left it, as was the box of clothes in the middle of the room. However, she didn’t relax. Although there was no one visible, she still had one more thing to check; her closet.

  Swallowing hard, Abigale slowly approached the door to her closet, which was shut tightly. Her pulse beat even faster than it had before. What if there was someone in there waiting for her? What if they had a gun? She’d stand no chance against a gun with only a knife in her possession.

  Abigale eyed the knife in her hand, which was about the length of her forearm. If it came down to it, would she be able to use it? She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, gripped the handle of the closet door, and silently counted.

  One, two…three!

  Abigale threw open the door. At that very same moment, a bang echoed from downstairs, followed by the sound of the front door swinging shut.

  With a terrified scream, she swung the knife around like a maniac, making a weak attempt to defend herself against the noise. Her heart pounded against her chest, causing her breaths to become even louder.

  Had they come back? Or had they escaped? Oh God…what if they came back?

  She reached for her phone she’d tucked into her back pocket, but it wasn’t there. Panic consumed her when she remembered she left it downstairs on the couch. Every muscle in her body trembled. She had to make it downstairs to her phone. That was the only way she would be able to contact someone to come help her. Otherwise…well, she didn’t even what to think about what could happen if she didn’t.

  Setting her jaw, Abigale exited her room and stopped at the stairs. She took a deep breath, set her shoulders, and began the slow descent. She peeked through the railing as she scooted down the stairs, the knife gripped in her fist. Keeping low, she scanned the living room and the entrance to the dining room.

  Had they left? Had they escaped when they realized they had the chance?

  She reached the bottom step and stood, her knees quivering from bundled up nerves. Abigale eyed her phone, which was lying face down on the couch. She dove for it, though not before making sure to survey the scene around her. There was still no sign of anyone. When she had it in her hand, she quickly dialed her mother.

  While she waited for her mother to an
swer, Abigale slowly walked back to the dining room with the knife held out in front of her aggressively. The earth-shattering sound of her mother’s voicemail echoed into her ear, and her heart sank. Instead of leaving a frantic voicemail, Abigale hung up. She put her phone into her back pocket and approached the table.

  Apart from the plate, the pizza box seemed untouched. She swallowed hard before taking a seat, the knife still clenched in her fist. She wasn’t about to let it go anytime soon. It was the only thing she could protect herself with.

  Eying the pizza box and the delicious aroma that wafted from it, Abigale sighed. Maybe a piece of the cheesy goodness would help ease her mind a little.

  However, when she opened the box, she immediately blanched. A note, accompanied by a flower, lay on top of her unhealthy dinner. Her name was written in cursive on the front side of the cardstock. She picked it up, ignoring the flower for a moment. When she flipped it around, Abigale froze in terror.

  The note written on the other side was short, but it brought up many questions. Disturbing questions. Abigale feared for her safety after reading the twenty-five words in cursive. She let the card slip from her fingers and glide to the floor. She covered her mouth with one hand to keep from letting out a terrified yelp as she processed the message, and what it meant. The intruder hadn’t been there to hurt her. They’d been there to leave the note. From the crime shows she’d seen, Abigale knew this note wasn’t only threatening to her, but threatening to everyone around her.

  Letting her eyes drift to the floor where the note lay, she read the message again. She read it until she teared up. She read it until she wanted to vomit.

  She read it until she wanted to leave that wretched house and never return.

  “I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were mine, dearest Abigale. We will see each other soon. I promise you.”