“You don’t have to be an asshole.”
Turning on her heel, she stomped away from me like a child who just got told she had a timeout to complete. Immature wasn’t my flavor. Obedient and quiet was.
I’m sure Khaos had one of every color, personality type, and walk of life. He was notorious for keeping one girl for every letter in the alphabet around. I’m sure the one name per letter was to keep him from forgetting or fucking up the names of the women actually consenting to whatever this was.
Taking out my phone, I glanced at the lit up screen without her name across it. No angry texts, no phone calls, and no hints to how I should proceed when I could tell stubborn came easily to both of us.
“You gonna ask me what I know or pretend you don’t care still?” His voice caught me off guard when I looked to my right to see Khaos standing there grinning ear to ear.
“About who?” I was pretending to not know when she ran circles upstairs around my monster.
His hand landed on my shoulder. “We both know you aren’t pretty enough to play dumb, bro. Let’s see… What do I know? Born and raised in Chicago. Super Catholic. Oh, she got kidnapped for a while when she was 12 and watched her dad get tortured. Her dad actually blamed her and made some priest at their church have one-on-one sessions with her to cleanse her from all the evil. Heard it got crazy abusive. Now she doesn’t talk to her family.”
And just like that, he reduced Abigail’s demons all down to a few sentences.
“What do you mean abusive?”
My skin crawled and pricked with sudden discomfort at the thought of Abigail having been abused by her own family. I knew Khaos was never wrong, so the anger I felt was justified.
“The priest was later convicted for doing some fucked up shit to kids. She was the only one who refused to go on the stand.”
I wanted to go to her and force her to admit the real truth when she only fed me half.
I wanted to go to her period, but I knew she’d confirm it and that would be all I needed to snap. If I went to her and got what I wanted, the world would be in trouble.
The world wasn’t my concern. The world produced parents who saw fit to turn me into a monster. My only concern was Abigail and preserving whatever the fuck was left of her sanity.
We only confessed to half our truths.
She had no idea I was a horseman or what that meant. I had no idea she was more tortured than the bland beige color she seemed to idolize.
Fuck it.
“Where are you going?” Khaos shouted, but I was already halfway to the exit. He knew exactly where I was going when he decided to share that fucking piece of news.
ABIGAIL
I was being a world class kind of immature when I made the silent treatment my priority. I just needed a break from our back and forth, a break to forget Jessica existed and let myself get over the aches he left me with.
He seemed to understand that when he let me have all the space I wanted.
More than I wanted.
Grimm was crowding my thoughts and bullying anything unrelated to him right out of the forefront of my mind.
Jus not being home as much wasn’t weird, but it was noteworthy. She hated people, loved a good protest, and loved to rant about both. She hadn’t even done that before leaving the house.
Sending her a text, I made sure to keep it light when I simply sent a random gif after typing protection.
Settling back into the couch, I surfed Netflix for anything worth my attention. Nothing looked appealing. Not even the pint of Ben and Jerry’s on the pillow sitting on my lap. Finally finding some show that looked promising only because it seemed to involve cults made me feel even more immature.
I literally couldn’t get away from him.
Engrossed in the show, the knock on my front door had me jumping out of my skin. Clutching my phone tightly in my palm, I stalked to the door on my tip toes.
The show had just gotten to the part where someone died for knowing too much.
Just like me. Grimm had told me more than he should have.
In front of the door, my PTSD really kicked in, making my heart thud so hard it rippled through all the bones in my chest. “Who is it?”
“Open the door, Abigail.”
Only one person used my full first name as frequently as my mother.
Grimm.
Opening the door to a Grimm in a white shirt, light grey sweats, and loud shoes, I felt my heart and ability to breathe both get choked up. It was the first time I had seen him in light colors. It made him seem less haunted, tortured, murky waters…
“What are you doing here? It’s 10 o’clock.”
He didn’t push past me or explain how he knew where I lived. I don’t know why I bothered indulging myself with this kind of surprise. He was in a cult, had plenty of money, and knowing where I lived was probably as easy as picking up coffee.
“What’s the whole truth, Abigail?”
I swore I could see Grimm shaking while his forearm leaned against the frame and his fists were balled up so tightly I saw his knuckles turn a pale lifeless shade.
“Whole truth? About? I’ve been honest. More than honest.”
Stepping out of the way, I sidestepped to let him in with a wave of my hand. I lived right off a very popular street with people walking almost all the time, and I didn’t need the gawking if Grimm was about to lose it.
Slamming his closed fist against the frame, his voice wasn’t quizzical anymore; it was brooding and menacing. “About your childhood, Abigail. What did the priest do to you?”
I had only told him my parents shoved religion down my throat, not that something else had happened. I already told him I was kidnapped and watched my father have fingers removed in front of me. Pity wasn’t something I wanted from him… anyone but him.
“That’s a little deep…” I was still waiting for him to come in when I walked away from the door and found my half empty glass of wine on the table.
“Really? Deeper than I was the other night?”
Spinning around, I faced him. “Why are you bringing this up? How do you even know? It’s the past.”
The past was better kept in the past. I managed to get over the nightmares and hatred for my family with the benefit of distance. It wasn’t easy, but I knew deep down it wasn’t their fault that the priest’s methods of therapy hadn’t exactly been approved and recognized outside of torture.
If I thought about it too long, the scars on my back started to tingle with memories and phantom pains.
“It doesn’t matter how I know, Abigail. I’m not gonna sleep tonight until you tell me the whole truth.”
“And nothing else but the truth?” I had to stop the smile from cracking over my full lips at my own joke. His eyes were digging into me, piercing every ounce of lightness I was trying to bring to this moment—failing, but trying. I could still see him vibrating, less shaking, but still so angry it was manifesting physically.
“This isn’t a fucking joke, Abigail. Do you want me to fucking snap? Do you wanna be responsible for what comes next?”
His threats were heavy and dampened down any humor inside me, expelling it completely.
“It’s in the past. I don’t ask you about your past and hope it’s okay to bring it all up again.” I was stalling and hoping he didn’t catch on.