by M A Roth
He had muted the TV, but scenes continued to flicker across the screen. The scene that played out was one I knew.
“Really, Simon, Legally Blonde?” I tried not to laugh as his cheeks turned red.
“No, I wasn’t watching that. It must have just landed there.” He put on his best macho man voice.
I burst out laughing. “It’s totally fine. I won’t judge.”
“Abigail, I’m not watching it. I love Fast and Furious.” The funniest thing was he had to name a man’s film.
“Really, it’s cool. Legally Blonde is good,” I teased.
“I’m not…” he started to protest again, going red.
“It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone. It will be our secret.”
Simon got off the bed and moved towards me, his head so red, it was ready to explode. I smiled, fighting back more laughter. But my smile dropped when he grabbed my drink from my hand.
“Give it back, now!”
He stood defiant. The glint in his eyes told me he knew I was teasing, but maybe teasing a sore spot.
“Then take it back.”
“Never. No matter what!” I said and grinned.
“No matter what,” he said before swallowing all my vodka; this was a side to Simon I had never seen. He shook his head while squeezing his eyes against the burning sensation.
I folded my arms. “There’s more vodka, but by all means, drink another glass. The face you make is so priceless and girly.”
He put the glass down on the small table.
“That’s it!” he said, turning back to me.
I jumped off the bed and raced to the far side. He stood on the other side, both of us waiting for the other to move.
The door opened, but I didn’t glance away from him. I wasn’t going to be distracted, but Simon looked away, giving me the perfect opportunity. I reached across quickly and grazed his face with my fingertips.
“My dips,” I said, smirking.
Simon jumped on the bed and I let out a squeal.
“Really, Abigail, you ruin everyone’s meal and now, I find you and Simon acting like two girls?”
It wasn’t Cathy’s words, but how they slurred and the bitterness that filled them that made me stop.
“Let it go,” I said as I started to straighten up her bed.
“Let it go?” she said and swung away from me, turning her nastiness on Simon.
“And you, running after Abigail like a lovesick puppy… you turn my stomach!”
Simon’s face turned a deep red colour.
“God, Cathy, why are you always such a bitch?” I turned to Simon. “Never mind her.”
“That’s why he’s like a little girl, you’re always petting him!”
I cut her off. “One more word, Cathy, and I swear…”
She laughed. “What? You swear you’ll call Daniel here to do your bidding? Or maybe John?” she spat.
“It’s Father Peter to you, not John.”
“Blah, blah, blah…”
She lay on her bed, kicking off her shoes.
Simon seemed frozen in place. I moved towards him and reached for his arm, but he pulled away.
“Simon never mind her,” I said, but he shook his head.
“You’re so blind to everything, Abigail.”
I turned to Cathy; she was pushing me too far. I crossed my arms. “Fine, Cathy the Wise, please do tell me!” I said.
She stood up, nearly tripping over her own shoes. It just added more fuel to the fire. She was nearly in my face.
“You tag Daniel along, who loves you, but you don’t give a shit about him.” She started laughing, but my heart had clenched on the word love. Daniel wasn’t in love with me. Was he? “And Father Peter, well, that is something else. He sees only good in you when you’re rotten to the core. And I saw you and Blake get all comfy on the plane.” I held my tongue even though I was struggling to breathe against my rising anger. “And your little friend behind you,” she said, pointing a long, red nail in Simon’s direction. “Let me tell you a secret, he doesn’t like women. He likes men.”
I turned to Simon; his head was ready to explode with embarrassment as he tore from the room.
“Simon!” I called as he raced out the door, slamming it behind him.
I turned to Cathy, my own face ablaze with anger. “And what about you, Cathy? Since you have analyzed all of us, do tell me, what fucked up story you have?”
Her face turned into a snarl worse than usual. “Get out!” Cathy roared while stamping her feet on the ground.
I stood firm. “Get out? No. I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a spiteful, poisonous bitch!” I said and got a slap on the face for my words.
The force whipped my head back and blood flooded my mouth. I stood frozen in shock for a moment, but it was short lived as the door to our hotel room burst open.
“What the hell is going on?” I looked as Blake walked in, his movements stiff and angry.
“Here comes one of your pets to save you,” Cathy said as tears filled her eyes.
I grabbed her arms and shook her. “What is wrong with you? Why are you always so nasty?”
“He made me this way!” she screamed, her nose nearly touching mine, but behind her anger, I could see her pain.
“Who made you this way?” I whispered, but the fight had left her and she sagged in my arms.
She looked up and her body went rigid when she saw Blake standing there, watching us.
“Get out of my room,” she said, moving towards him, pushing against his chest with all her force. She moved him three paces back with each shove.
Blake grabbed her, spinning her around and pulling her into his body. “No. You need to calm down first,” he said.
“Fuck you!” Cathy roared while trying to bite the hand that held her. Jesus Christ, she was like a mad woman.
“Blake, let her go and leave,” I said calmly.
He looked at me as if I was mad. “She just hit you,” he said.
“And I’ll hit her again,” Cathy wriggled against his hold and Blake gave me a look.
“Let her go.”
He shook his head before he released her from his firm hold and Cathy stumbled from his arms.
He left and slammed the door behind him. That door was taking a hammering. I turned to Cathy, and she was staring daggers at me. But I did the one thing I knew would break her. I pulled her into a hug.
“Get off me. What are you, a lesbian?” she said, but her voice sounded unsure. She tried to push me away, but I held tight.
“It’s okay. Let it out,” I said.
She tried to push me again, but I used every bit of my strength to hold her until she broke and her body shook with tears. We both slid to the floor. I didn’t let her go, but held her as she let her pain and anger heave her body with heart wrenching sobs. I stroked her hair and prayed to God to help her. What had happened to turn her into this?
Chapter Twenty Four
Abigail
Morning came and with it a headache. I had sat up most of the night, drinking as I watched Cathy sleep. She twisted and turned, nightmares tormenting her. I didn’t know what caused her such pain and I couldn’t help her. So I drank until my mind was numb and sleep overtook me. We woke to the shrill ringing of the phone. I stumbled towards it. I had fallen asleep on the floor alongside Cathy’s bed.
“Hello,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
“This is your wake up call,” said an unknown voice.
Father Peter must have organized for us all to get one.
“Thanks,” I mumbled back before setting the receiver down.
Cathy woke her eyes red and swollen and we both got dressed mechanically. Neither of us said anything about last night as we left the hotel room.
We all sat quietly in the minibus that would transport us to The Reote. Father Peter gave us a little talk before we reached it.
“They will ask standard questions about what happened and once they talk and decide
what to do, we can go home.” I looked at Father Peter. “And what if I fail, they’ll nail me to a cross?” I said bitterly, sick of being questioned when all I did was help.
“Abigail, you know this isn’t personal.”
I looked at Zee, my mouth going slack. “Like hell it isn’t. They're pissed because they can’t explain what happened to me, and you know it!”
“What happened to you?” Blake asked, his curiosity rising.
We pulled up at two large steel gates that were sheeted so no one could see in. The gates moved back, and we entered a driveway that was covered on either side with concrete walls. The driveway was only wide enough for one vehicle to pass at a time.
“I don’t remember,” I lied.
Blake smiled. “I believe you, Abigail,” he said as he shot a look at Zee.
My heart skipped a beat, not possible. He couldn’t know, nobody did.
“You guys are weird,” Cathy said, but her voice didn’t hold its usual sharpness.
The van stopped, and I looked at her as she distracted herself, brushing down her jeans and shirt, knocking off imaginary crumbs as she climbed out of the van. I groaned as I followed her. This would be painful and they weren’t wasting any time. Steven stood outside the van.
“Abigail, it’s great to see you,” Steven said. He wore a crisp white shirt, grey trousers and black shiny shoes that I could see my reflection in. His hair was in perfect sync with his outfit and his blue eyes were steady as he forced a quick smile on his hard face.
“Steven, it’s just brilliant to see you too. Really, I had planned to come over here to see you on so many occasions, but things kept cropping up, like demons and ghosts. Stuff like that.” I smiled as fake as he had.
Steven’s face was stone as he turned away for us to follow.
“Don’t tease the tigers,” Zee said, standing beside me.
“He’s more of a snake,” I said loud enough so Steven could hear, but he didn’t take the bait.
I was getting sick of his shit. We were escorted in through the back doors - so to speak - and the scenery was all high concrete walls. Nothing to write home about. I followed with the rest obediently. We walked down a very badly lit runway that sloped into the ground. We were going under The Reote. It must have been too embarrassing to take us in through the front door. We do all their dirty work, yet we were kept a secret.
The only sound was our shoes hitting the concrete. We walked for about twenty minutes, going deeper. I wondered how far down we were. Two large wooden doors stopped us. The whiz of cameras caught my attention, and I looked at them as they sat on the wall on either side of the door. Steven looked directly at one camera that had moved in our direction and nodded. The large doors were pulled open. He turned to us with a stone face.
“Welcome to The Reote!” he said.
We all felt really welcome.
***
A priest greeted us with a nod, but his face was also set in stone. Jesus, a happy bunch these were! We were brought to a small sitting room, nothing fancy and Steven told us to wait there until we were called. The room was bare, except for the plastic chairs we all sat on. No one spoke and I fidgeted nervously with my hands.
Zee’s hand covered mine. “It’s okay,” he tried to reassure me, but I pushed his hand away, meeting the hurt in his eyes.
He was avoiding me lately, telling me half-truths and I couldn’t look at him. The priest that met us on arrival stuck his head through the door, his beady eyes landing on me.
“Abigail,” he said.
It was like a doctor’s appointment, only the results were the outcome of life or death. Maybe I was being dramatic, but the tone of this place was way too serious for why we were here.
I stood, not looking back, and followed him.
I was led into a small room and once I crossed the threshold. The door closed behind me with a resounding thud.
I sat in a small interrogation room alone. My foot drummed nervously on the floor. A large mirror covered the far wall. I wondered how many people were watching me. Was everyone else left in a room? This was unfair. They would never leave me alone. I stood and walked to the glass, looking at my reflection while raising my middle finger and smirked. That should cause a few priests to fall to their knees. I turned away as the door opened and Steven came in.
“Please sit down, Abigail,” he said. I hated this man. I sat down, facing the glass as he sat on the other side, placing a file on the table along with a recorder. He opened the file, straightening it on the table and removed a pen from his pocket. He was taking his sweet time. He pressed two buttons on the recorder and the tape inside started to spin. “This is an interview with Abigail Thornton,” he spoke clearly.
“An interrogation,” I said close to the recorder. Interview my ass. He stopped the tape, looking annoyed. I raised my hands. “What? You got your words mixed up. I was trying to help!” I smiled.
“Don’t speak unless I ask you a question,” he said. I didn’t answer, but sat silently. He started again, hitting the two buttons on the recorder. “This is an interview with Abigail Thornton.” He looked at me and seemed happy that I hadn’t interrupted. “Could you state your full name?” he asked while looking at it in my file. Was this guy for real? This was so stupid.
“Mary Poppins,” I answered.
His face became stone and he slammed the buttons on the recorder to stop it. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Then just answer our questions if you’ve done nothing wrong and withhold no information. You have nothing to worry about. It’s a simple chat.”
“Then why am I in an interrogation room?” I asked.
“This is just a chat, Abigail.”
“Oh, really?” I looked around the room. “Then what’s with me being locked in a room?” I stood. “And who’s behind the glass?” I said, knocking on it. “And what’s with the recorder? I’m sorry, but this looks very much like an interrogation room, so just admit it!”
“Fine, Sherlock, it’s an interrogation room. Now, please sit down.”
I did while folding my arms to cover the tremble in my hands. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” His face tightened; his lips set in a thin line. “Can we start now?” I didn’t answer, and we began again. “What is your full name?”
“Abigail Mary Thornton.”
“What age are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Tell me about Father Peter.”
I looked at Steven. He already knew this. I let out a breath. “Fine. Father Peter is my guardian. He has been since I was eleven years old.”
“Is it correct that both your parents are deceased?”
My stomach tightened. “You already know the answer,” I said.
“Answer the question, Abigail.”
“Yes, both my parents are deceased.”
“How did you meet Daniel?”
My body froze, and I told it to relax. “At school.”
“You met him at school?”
“Yes, isn’t that what I just said?”
“Yet, there is no record of Daniel Angelo attending your school.”
I almost laughed at the surname name that Zee had created for himself. Very fitting.
“Right!”
“But you just said that you met him at school.” Steven was looking pissed now.
“I did.”
“Abigail!” he warned.
“He hung out at my school, but didn’t attend it,”
“Did you ever go to his home, meet his family?”
They had all this information about where Zee was from. He had created his whole family tree, birth certificate, and all. You name it. It was all in the system. I was never sure how he got everything. I assumed that he could with being an angel and all.
“No.”
“Why?”
“It never came up,” I said.
“You weren’t suspicious?”
“I was a seven-year-old so, no, suspicion wasn’t a part of my nature.”
What was with the questions about Zee? He had always passed. My stomach tightened with queasiness.
“Now, Abigail, this interview is being conducted due to the loss of two civilians, so I want to ask you some questions about that.”
I nodded.
“Who was with you on these occasions?”
“Daniel,” I answered.
“Daniel who?”
“Daniel Angelo was with me.”
“On both?”
“No, just one.”
He raised his hands, looking confused. “Who was with you the second time?”
“No one.”
“Why?”
“Because it was out of hours.” This was not the standard procedure.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean by out of hours?”
I stared at him for a few moments.
“A spirit approached me.” He started writing. “The tape recorder is catching all,” I said, earning another hard look.
“So you see spirits?”
I squirmed in my chair. “Sometimes… and you know all of this, Steven. Why are you asking?”
“Just answer the questions, Abigail. Tell me about the little boy you saw.”
My face fell and Steven smirked. Blake the asshole told him. “I saw a boy. I can only believe you’re referring to the car accident?”
“Why? Was there more than one occasion? And don’t lie.”
I had nothing to hide. “I’ve seen him three times now.”
“What did he want?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” It was a half-truth. Yeah, Sam wanted me to find mum’s letter, but I still didn’t know why. Maybe it was to let her go, but I didn’t feel that’s what he had sent me there for, yet he hadn’t appeared since I had found them.
“Did you recognize him?”
I stayed silent for a moment while swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You will have to speak up,” Steven said.
I gave him a hard look. “I said yes! He was my brother.”
His head shot up. Surprise, for the first time throughout the interview, showed on his face. The door opened and Father Peter entered much to my relief.
