by Sophia Gray
“I know you’ve been through a lot today, but the truth of the matter is, it’s a good sign,” Jagger said softly.
“What is?” Abby demanded to know. As far as she was concerned, this entire day had been a blight on the history of the planet. It deserved to be wiped out of the history books.
“What happened to your apartment,” Jagger said lightly. Abby stared at him, probably grimacing a little in confusion and frustration. Jagger sighed deeply and continued, “The arsonist hasn’t ever done anything like this before. He’s only just set fires and walked away. But now he’s showing his face.”
“Not literally,” Abby said bitterly, thinking back to the useless video tape from the hospital.
“No, but he’s showed that something is important to him. That’s an even bigger deal.”
“What’s important to him?” Abby asked. She felt like she was following a script, asking all the right questions that Jagger wanted to hear, but inside she felt dead, numb, completely rotted through. She just needed to sleep. Abby wished Jagger would get out of the room already and let her rest.
“You,” Jagger said. “You’re important. He’s always set the houses on fire when people weren’t home. But this time he fucked up. You and Robert were there. You might have seen something, even if you don’t know it yet. He wants to scare you because he knows you might be his undoing. That means something, Abby.”
Abby sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down onto the sensitive flesh until the pain stung her so badly she had to force herself to stop. The pain anchored her, shocking her back into her body. That’s what she always used to do when she was in the hospital as a teenager, alone in her bed, terrified that it would be her last night alive. She’d focus on the pain, and the pain would carry her through. It worked, like always, getting her heart to stop racing, going steady as a robotic drum within her chest.
She figured Jagger had a point. The arsonist feared her. That had to count for something, some tiny accomplishment even if everything else had turned to shit.
“Okay, well, I’m going to go to bed now,” she said. Jagger nodded but made no motion to get up from his chair. “Um…. Aren’t you going to leave?”
“No,” Jagger said with a small laugh, shaking his head and furrowing his brow like Abby had made a ridiculous suggestion.
Abby was so flustered that she stared across the room at Jagger, her mouth stupidly agape in confusion. “Um. Yeah, you are. Get out,” she told him once the capacity to speak returned to her. In the back of her mind, she was a little afraid of fighting with him. She’d never seen him pissed, but most men had the ability to get scary when they got angry if her life experience told her anything. Still, she held her ground, glaring at him as meanly as she could even as he stared blankly back at her like she hadn’t said a single fucking word.
“No,” he said a moment later, not even bothering to budge an inch from his chair.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I need to sleep.” Abby reminded him.
“Yeah, go right ahead,” Jagger said with a shrug. “What, do you need more blankets or something? I think there might be some in the closet.” He got to his feet and turned to look, stretching to the top shelf to bring down extra blankets and pillows. “Here,” he said as he tossed them over.
Abby stared down at the fluffy pile he’d created next to her. She was so exhausted at this point that it was tempting to fall into the biggest pillow, allowing her brain to shut off and stop interrogating every aspect of the situation. But no, that wasn’t in her nature. She was incapable of letting things go. “You’re not going to sit there and watch me sleep,” she said, hardening her voice as much as possible to communicate to Jagger that she meant business. “It’s not going to happen.”
Jagger looked unbothered, scratching at his bottom lip casually and leaning back in the chair. “Sorry, darling, but it is. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I’m not.”
“I thought you said this compound was safe!” Abby said, her voice rising a little in frustration, the heat from her anger spreading throughout her chest. She inwardly bristled at being called “darling” in such a condescending manner. Pet names were a trigger for her, too. Come to think of it, she had lots of triggers. She was like an overly efficient gun.
“It is safe, as far as I know,” Jagger said. “But there’s still a chance someone on the inside is involved in the fires. I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”
Abby could have growled; she felt so fucking angry. All her muscles tensed up like she was a dog about to break into a fight. The fucking utter audacity of this guy, acting like he was her fucking father or something. “Listen, the protective performance is cute and all. I get that the ladies usually swoon over it, you know, with the whole firefighter thing. It’s a part of your shtick. I get it. But it’s not fucking working on me, all right? So, get the fuck out and leave me alone,” she said, pointing at the door and snapping her fingers to tell him to go.
Jagger just shook his head slowly. “Nah, not going to happen.”
They stared one other down, eyes frozen in place, unblinking, as they faced off. Abby’s eyes started burning a little, but she fought through it, squinting at Jagger to demonstrate just how pissed she was. After several more seconds, Jagger finally sighed and looked away. “Okay, okay, we can compromise.”
“Go on,” Abby said sternly, refusing to agree to anything until she heard what he had in mind first.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Jagger began, “if, and only if, you let me lock the door to your room.”
Abby turned to look at the door. There was a lock on the doorknob as well as a latch on the top of the door to keep intruders out. “Sure,” she said quickly. “Sure, I’ll lock up as soon as you leave. I’d do that anyway in case other people don’t know I’m here. Okay? Now please go.”
Jagger shook his head and pursed his lips, becoming increasingly annoyed as the conversation went on. “No. Sorry. No can do. I mean, I’ve got to lock it. There’s a key that only I have.”
“So, you’re saying…” Abby trailed off, trying to make sure she understood the situation perfectly before saying anything. Somehow, she was still afraid of looking stupid, even though she didn’t even like this guy as a person. “You’re saying that I’d be stuck in here all night, and I wouldn’t be able to get out until you came to unlock the door.”
“Basically, yeah,” Jagger said, nodding. “Except nobody would be able to get in, either. You’d be safe.”
“What if I have to pee in the middle of the night?” Abby asked. “I have to be able to get to the bathroom.”
Jagger chewed on his lip, thinking for a minute before answering her. “Just go now,” he said, getting to his feet and walking toward the door. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is. Come on.”
“No, I don’t have to go now,” Abby said, a whining edge to her voice coming out that made her feel like a petulant kindergartener. Her skin began to crawl as a trapped feeling came over her, every cell in her body buzzing to escape. She had to inhale and exhale a few times to cut off the panic attack that threatened to overtake her. It was a habit she got into years ago, back when her dad… Back when things had been bad. Things she didn’t want to think about anymore.
“Are you okay?” Jagger asked her, turning back and sitting on the bed across from her. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” Abby snapped rudely, cutting him off before he could finish the question. “Sorry,” she mumbled a second later as guilt hit her right in the stomach. “Sorry, I just. I don’t have to pee right now, but I will later, okay? Just leave and let me lock the door myself. I’ll be fine. I know I will.”
Jagger sighed deeply, and for a second Abby thought she was victorious in convincing him, but he slowly shook his head, almost sadly, like he didn’t want to disappoint her. “I can’t leave you alone. It sucks. I’m sorry. But you’re safest when you’re with me.”
“Well, what about work? I’ve got to go
out tomorrow afternoon to see my patients, the ones who live at home,” Abby explained. “You can’t exactly go with me there. You’ve got a job to do, too, don’t you?”
Jagger nodded a little, but his eyes went blurry and unfocused, lost in thought. “Yeah…” he muttered, more to himself than to her. Abby felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her stomach contracting uncomfortably as Jagger’s brow furrowed. It was obvious he was formulating a plan, which could only mean bad news. “How about… how about you take a sabbatical?”
“What, from work?” Abby asked, almost laughing at how ridiculous that notion was. “Give me a break.”
“No, come on, I think it’s the safest option,” Jagger said. “I can’t follow you around at work, you’re right. I think you should take some time off until I find the guy who’s been doing this shit.”
Abby shook her head firmly. “No. There’s no way. There’s just - I’m not quitting my job. And anyway, I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to. I have bills to pay, lots of them. I have to make money.”
“I can loan you money,” Jagger said easily.
“I’m not taking your fucking money!” Abby yelled back. She burned with embarrassment, heat climbing up her neck and down her back at the sound of her angry voice, but she couldn’t help it. She felt as though he was treating her like a ten-year-old child instead of a thirty-year-old woman with her own life. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m not quitting my job, okay? End of story.” Where the hell did this guy get off, thinking he had any right whatsoever to tell her what to do?
“Fine, don’t quit. But you’re taking some time off,” Jagger stated. He didn’t say it like a question, or even like a suggestion. He said it the way doctors used to tell her that she was going to need chemotherapy, a foregone conclusion that didn’t involve her at all.
“No, I’m not!” Abby shot back, gritting her teeth so hard her gums hurt. She didn’t care. Abby could take the fucking pain. What she couldn’t abide was being ordered around. That shit wasn’t going to fly with her, especially not from some stupid man she barely knew.
“Yeah, you fucking are!” Jagger said, getting to his feet and standing next to the edge of the bed with his arms crossed. “What do you think is going to happen? They managed to break into your apartment without even breaking a goddamn window, Abby! You think it’s going to be a challenge for them to follow you to your work and get to you there? Hell, no! They’re scared of you, I don’t know why yet, but they are. They’re not going to let this go. I know it. Just trust me.”
“Yeah, fat fucking chance,” Abby muttered, tearing her eyes away from Jagger to focus again on the blankets on the bed. She wanted to grab the nearest pillow and scream into it until she lost her voice entirely.
“You’re in danger, Abby! Serious fucking danger. A man has died. Do you want to follow him?” Jagger said, and his voice was so hard, so serious, that it shocked Abby into silence.
“Maybe,” she murmured when she found her voice again. “Maybe, yeah, if it means I get to come and go whenever I want, you know? Like a fucking human instead of a goddamn hamster locked in a cage.”
Jagger shook his head. “You’re just not thinking straight. You need a good night’s rest.”
“Yeah, alone,” Abby said, stressing the word as hard as she could. She sighed deeply and buried her head in her hands, peeking out at Jagger’s stressed face through the gaps in between her fingers. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help, but you’re freaking me out, okay? You can’t control me like this. It’s not fair.”
They were both quiet for a moment, and Abby lifted her head from her hands, curious to see the effect her words were having on him.
“Please just let me stay in the room with you,” Jagger said softly a few moments later. “Please. Just see it as a favor to me. I just want to make sure you can sleep safely. Please.”
For some reason, Abby felt her heart quiver in her chest. It almost hurt, feeling it move like that inside of her. It had been so long since anything had touched it. Jagger sounded so desperate like he was starving for water and Abby had the last drop of it left on Earth.
Fuck it. She’d just have to blame the caregiver inside of her, that part that always made her softer than she needed to be. “Fine,” she finally muttered, stretching out on the bed and slamming her head into a pillow. “You stay in the chair, though, okay?”
“Of course,” Jagger said without hesitation, sitting back down on the chair across from the bed. “Of course, yes.”
“And I get to go to the bathroom whenever I want,” she added. “None of this overprotective bullshit. A girl’s gotta pee sometimes, you know?”
“That makes sense. I understand,” Jagger said.
“Okay. Turn out the light, then,” Abby instructed, and Jagger did as she asked before slinking back down into the chair. She turned to get a look at his face, her eyes straining in the darkness to make out his features. It took a minute for her to see anything, but then his eyes, dark as they were, pierced through the shadows and met hers.
Beautiful, Abby thought, the word popping up into her mind like a reflex. She quickly pressed her head back down, burying her face into the pillow, but she breathed more heavily than before, her lungs working overtime to calm her heartbeat. Where the hell had that thought come from? She’d spent the last five minutes arguing with the guy about his crazy, borderline stalker tendencies. That wasn’t beautiful. That was controlling. That was upsetting. That was wrong.
She couldn’t seem to shake the image of his shining eyes even when she shut hers, or when she imagined her fucked-up apartment, even when she thought of the flames that had consumed Robert’s life. As sleep came to take her, Jagger’s face stayed with her.
Flames licked at Abby’s back, burning her skin away. She was in a hospital bed, surrounded by fire on all sides, but it didn’t hurt to be touched by it. She wanted it. It cleansed her. It consumed her. The fire made her feel whole.
Abby stuck her hands out into the flames, letting it dance up her arms, around her shoulder, attacking her hospital gown and turning it to ash until she was naked in bed. She leapt up and down on the hospital bed, feeling like she was three years old, jumping with joy as every bit of the hospital room was consumed, eaten up.
“I love watching you.”
Abby froze, standing on the bed as she looked over at the door. It was her dad, doing that silly stupid half-smile he always used to do whenever he was in a good mood. He never came to visit her in the hospital before now. What was going on? Was she dying? Was that why they let her have this fire to play with?
She blinked a little to get the smoke out of her eyes, and then when she looked over at her dad again, he was gone. In his place was Mark, her ex-boyfriend, the one who’d charged up all her credit cards and cleaned out her bank accounts. The one who’d fucked her over. He looked scared. Good. He should be, Abby decided. She hoped the fire would eat him too. “You need to get out of there. You’re not safe,” he murmured.
“What the fuck do you care?” she demanded, leaping again on her bed, hard enough now that it squeaked under her weight. “Go away. Leave me alone. Leave me alone!” She closed her eyes when she was jumping in midair, and when she came back down again, it was Jagger standing in the doorway instead, in full firefighter gear.
“I can come get you if you want. I can rescue you,” Jagger said softly, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him over the roar of the flames.
“I’m fine. I don’t want you to come. I can be fine here.”
“You sure?” he asked, and the words repeated on a loop in her head.
You sure? You sure? You sure?
Abby gasped for air as she sprung up in bed, jerking herself awake so violently that the bed underneath her slammed back against the wall. Fuck. What the hell was that? She wiped the sweat from her forehead and pulled her messy hair back from her head, holding it tightly in her hand in a little ball.
“You okay?” A voice asked, causing her to jump up again in alarm. Oh, right. Jagger.
“How long have you been awake?” she muttered, staring down at her knees rather than looking up at Jagger.
“A little while,” Jagger replied. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Yeah? What about?” Abby asked. She felt a sense of urgency, a desperation to know the answer, but she kept her voice calm, steady, not wanting Jagger to know how embarrassed she was that she had had a nightmare like a little girl.
“Satan’s Blazes,” he responded. “You were talking about the club.”
Abby shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Want to tell me what it was about?” Jagger asked.
Abby groaned and lay back down, stretching her limbs out on the bed, wishing all the tension in her joints would abandon her body. “No, no thanks. I’m good.”
“It’s normal, you know. You’ve been through a lot. It makes sense that you’ve been traumatized,” Jagger said softly.
