Girl and the Ghost

Two sisters with a past that's steadily catching up to them (better description later). Work in progress.

 

            A sharp snap resonated from deep within the woods and sent a shockwave of ice through her veins.  She froze in her tracks, unable to move, limbs leaden in the darkness.  She had no recollection of how she came to be in the middle of a forest, and couldn’t even begin to imagine what she would be doing there in the dead of night in the first place.  All she knew was the cold dread in the pit of her stomach, the pounding of her heart as she waited and listened, and the feeling of utter loss and helplessness…

            Another snap, this time nearby.  An animal maybe?  No.  This was something else.  Or maybe someone else…someone watching her, waiting for her, somewhere among the looming trees.  She didn’t bother thinking too much about the why, but rather focused on what she was going to do"

            A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she let out a shriek.

           

            “What the hell, Abby!”

            Abigail suddenly found herself gazing into a perplexed freckled face.  She sat up and glanced around at her bedroom, dimly lit by broken shafts of moonlight filtering in through the blinds of her window.  She realized her sister was staring at her and blushed.

            “Uh, sorry,” Abigail apologized, tucking her hair behind her ears and staring down at her lap in embarrassment. “Bad dream.”

            “Yeah, I noticed.  I tried to wake you up but then you flipped out and screamed at me,” her sister said, quirking an eyebrow as she took a seat beside her. “Still having those nightmares?”

“That nightmare, Jess.  Singular.  The same one, over and over.” Abigail shook her head, biting her lip as she briefly lost herself in her thoughts. “I’ve been having it for a while now.  I never dream about anything else.  I’m always standing in the middle of a creepy forest in the middle of the night, and I never see what’s hiding out in the trees.”

            “Have you ever tried?”

            “No, I can never bring myself to move.”

            “Well, maybe if you changed that, you could see what’s out there and stop having that dream,” Jessica reasoned. “I mean, it probably won’t stop until you figure out what’s bothering you.  That’s my psychological analysis on things, anyway,” she added with a lopsided smile.

            Abigail looked into her sister’s bright eyes"almost silver in the pale light.  Jess never ceased to amaze her.  She always had the answer, always knew just what to say, especially when the answer was so simple that Abigail wondered why she didn’t see it before.  Regrettably, Jess also had the innate ability to make Abigail stop and think. 

Ridiculous as she thought it was to analyze her own dreams, she felt there must be some reason for the recurring nightmare.  It was one thing to be lost in the woods, but she knew there had to be something more to the shadows in those trees.

            She barely registered Jessica’s comforting pat on her knee or her wish for a good night.  Abigail just lay down, clutched her blankets to her chest, and stared at the ceiling as the moonlight faded away and the room gradually brightened with the dawn.

*          *          *

Abigail cleared her mind as best she could the next morning, downing a cup of instant coffee with a grimace before rushing out the door, ignoring the fatigue and the pang of guilt for having left Jess alone and asleep at the apartment.  Abigail reasoned that her sister would understand"a surprise visit in the middle of the week unfortunately did not allow Abigail to drop everything to be with her.  She would make sure Jess knew she preferred belting out every song on the radio and driving aimlessly around town to listening to her professor drone on about proteins and amino acids.  Actually, Abigail enjoyed the class and loved her off-beat professor, but Jess didn’t need to know that.

            Abigail hurried across the courtyard and opened the lecture hall door just as the bell tower tolled the hour.

*          *          *

Their mother died when Jess was only a toddler, but Abigail was old enough to remember her.  The smaller details.  Vanilla warmth.  Dimpled smile.  Delicate hands.  Their father would fill in the rest for them, telling them stories about him and their mother when they were dating, how beautiful she was on their wedding day, how each time the girls smiled filled her with joy.  But he would never talk about how she died, at least never when Jess was in the room. 

As Abigail grew older, her father gradually revealed the circumstances surrounding her mother’s death, vague clues that never really led Abigail to any true understanding.  When she was six, he told her mommy wasn’t sick and that it was an

accident; he didn’t say what kind, but she was too young to wonder about the details and

old enough to know better than to tell her little sister.  When she was nine, she started asking questions, which led to him eventually telling her somebody was trying to hurt their family and he was going to find out who.  He didn’t tell her how, or why.  She didn’t ask.

When she was eleven, her father came home with a broken nose and a black eye.  He only told her that someone let him down, and didn’t explain any further.  When Jess asked about what happened, Abigail told her not to worry, Dad works part-time as a superhero fighting bad guys downtown and it’s supposed to be a secret and she can’t ever tell anyone or she’ll get in big trouble.  Jess bought it, and Abigail tried to convince herself as well; it simplified things, made not knowing a little easier. 

Their father stopped telling stories about their mother after that night, and Abigail wondered why he didn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth.  She resented him a little for that.

*          *          *

Abigail jumped slightly at the sudden rustle of notebooks and slamming of desks as the lecture hall began to spill out into the sunshine.  She looked down at her blank page, a solitary ink spot sitting in the corner where the date should have been.  She capped her pen, smudging the blot and staining her hand in the process, and packed away her things.  Jess would be expecting her.

*          *          *

She heard the music thumping from inside the apartment before she put her key in the door.  Sure enough, when Abigail stepped inside she felt the bass thundering in her chest and saw Jess moving around the kitchen, oblivious to her sister’s return.  Abigail let the door slam shut behind her; it had the desired effect.  Jess looked up from the sandwich she was assembling and broke into a huge grin.

“Hey!” she shouted over the music. “I was beginning to think you’d ditched me for higher education!”

“Never,” Abigail replied loudly as she set her bag by the door. “Could you turn the music down, though?  I don’t think my neighbors appreciate Robert Plant’s vocal style.”

Jess looked offended but lowered the stereo’s volume anyway. “So how was class?” she asked before dropping down on the couch and taking an unnecessarily large bite of her sandwich.

Abigail shrugged and sat beside her. “All right, I guess.  I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“So,” Jess said around a mouthful of food, “basically, you’re paying thousands of dollars to fall asleep in class.  And by the way, what kind of psycho wastes away their summer in class anyway?”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a smartass,” she said, snatching Jess’s sandwich out of her hands and tearing off a corner for herself before returning it to her sister’s lap. “Now come on, hurry up and eat so we can get out of here.” Abigail got to her feet and headed for her bedroom.

Jess’s voice followed Abigail down the hall. “Where’re we goin’?”

Abigail just smiled to herself.

*          *          *

“Holy crap, are you kidding me?” Jess asked incredulously.

Abigail held back a snicker as a middle aged woman did a double take in their direction.  Jess’s face was pure amazement as Abigail took her by the arm and led her away from the glass doors and further into the mall.

“No, seriously, how is this place like, two feet from campus?”

“We drove fifteen minutes,” Abigail stated flatly.

“Hey, home is like, two hours from civilization"this is like the Land of Oz for me.” She gasped suddenly and startled Abigail with a sudden smack on her arm. “DUDE, See’s!”

Abigail smiled and followed Jess as she made a bee line for the black and white checkered candy shop with a grin on her face that would have made the Cheshire cat proud.

 

“So seriously, how’s college life been treating you?  I still can’t believe it’s your last year already,” Jess said as she offered Abigail one of the many chocolates she had purchased.  Abigail shook her head.

“Me neither.  It’s still going great.  I really don’t have anything to complain about.  Aside from the occasional twelve-page-paper-of-doom, of course,” she added with a grimace.

Jess wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, really not looking forward to that in September.”

The girls wandered the mall in silence for a little while, simply enjoying each other’s company.  Abigail bit her lip before asking, “How’s Dad doing?”

Jess glanced at her, her expression unreadable, and shrugged. “Well, you know… he’s Dad,” she answered simply. “He’s okay.  I think.  I don’t know how he feels about me going to college so far from home, though.  Empty nest thing, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Abby muttered absently.  She looked around, spotted a bathroom, and turned to Jess. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” she said, thrusting her purse into her sister’s hands, “guard this with your life.”

“Right,” Jess deadpanned as Abigail headed for the restroom.

*          *          *

Six-year-old Abby blinked and stared drowsily at the ceiling, dimly wondering why she was awake.  There was a loud clatter downstairs and she bolted upright with a gasp.  She heard deep rumbling voices; one she recognized as her father’s, the other unfamiliar.  Abby threw off her covers and tip-toed onto the landing to peer over the banister.  The light from the kitchen spilled down the hallway and into the living room.  Two shadows, side by side, stretched across the floor, gesturing and pacing.  Abby couldn’t quite hear what the voices were saying, so she crept down a few steps of the staircase.  She pressed her lips together as snatches of the conversation reached her ears.

            “…been there…would’ve never…”

            “What…done...supposed to do?”

            “She…alone…”

            “Your wife…wrong…time…place…couldn’t be helped.”

            “Couldn’t be helped?” Her father’s sudden outburst startled her so badly that she nearly slipped down the rest of the stairs.  Abby resisted the urge to run back to bed and pull the blankets over her head.  Her father’s voice had lowered again. “…sit around…nothing!  Never should’ve…Jess…you.”

            Abby’s eyes widened.  Had Jessie made their mother sick?

            “You and I both know that isn’t the point, Daniel.” The other voice was suddenly nearby.  Abby scrambled back up the stairs and hid in the corner of the landing as footsteps echoed in the hallway below.

            “You’re right"the point is: my wife is dead, my kids are motherless, and if it wasn’t for you, Amy would be here right now.” Her father’s voice was a low growl.  She didn’t like it.  Abby drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face.

            “What happened to your wife was regrettable, yes, but I am not the one to blame for all of this and you know it.” The front door creaked open, “"we’ll keep in touch"” and then abruptly clicked shut.

            The silence that followed made Abby anxious.  She wanted to go back to her room, but she also wanted to know why that strange man was in her house.  Just then she heard her father coming up the stairs.  It was too late to hide, so she just sat there instead, and waited.

            Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs, nothing more than a lean, dark shadow against a backdrop of yellowish grays.  He stopped dead in his tracks and tilted his head to squint at the corner. “Abby?” he asked.

            “Hi, Daddy,” she said, hurriedly getting to her feet.

            “Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed?” Daniel stepped closer and knelt down, taking hold of her shoulders with gentle hands as he peered into her face.

            “Umm…” Abby hesitated, glancing between the sparkling grey orbs. “I’m thirsty,” she said finally.

            For a moment her father said nothing, only looked at her.  It made Abby feel twitchy.  “Okay,” he said finally, “okay.  Let’s get you some water.”  He stood up, hoisted Abby onto his hip, and carefully made his way back downstairs.  Abby closed her eyes in the brightness of the kitchen, only cracking them open when her father set her on a bar stool at the counter.  She kicked her feet, glanced down at the floor.  Daniel moved around the kitchen, opening a cabinet here, turning the faucet there, and then set a glass of water in front of Abby.  She wrapped her hands around the glass and tilted it toward her lips.  Daniel leaned against the counter and watched her with his arms folded across his chest.

            “Abigail?” he asked softly.  She flinched and some water spilled down her chin.

            “Yes, Daddy?” she said without looking at him. 

            “Did you hear me talking to that man earlier?” When Abby didn’t answer, Daniel sighed and rubbed his face with both hands before continuing. “It’s okay, Abby, I’m not mad at you for listening, I promise.”

            Abby said nothing for a minute. “Daddy?” she asked, turning to him.

            “Yeah, baby?”

            “Did Jessie make Mommy sick?”

            “What?” Daniel blinked in surprise. “No, sweetie, no, Jessie didn’t make Mommy sick,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “Why would you think that?”

            “You were talking about her.”

            “About Mommy?”

            “About Jessie.”

            Daniel looked confused. “What?  When were we talking about"” he stopped short and only stared at Abby, who stared right back. “Oh.  Listen, Abby… that man and I weren’t talking about your sister.”

            Abby frowned. “Then who were you talking about?”

            “Someone else.  Look, sweetheart, there’s something you should know about your mom.” When Abby only blinked at him with curious eyes, he continued. “See, Mommy wasn’t sick.”

            “Then why was she in the hobstable?” Abby asked instantly.

            Daniel sighed. “Well, there was an accident"hang on, I’m not finished,” he said when she opened her mouth again, “and some other people got hurt like Mommy did, and that’s what that man and I were talking about.  Okay?”

            Abby turned her attention back to her water, took a sip, and sat for a few moments.  She nodded.  Daniel smiled tiredly and patted her head. “All right,” he said, “finish your water and we’ll get you back into bed.”

            Abby curled up under the covers that night and laid awake as long as she could, listening to her father moving about downstairs.  When she got up the next morning, he was sitting at the breakfast counter with a mug of steaming coffee in his hands and dark circles under his eyes.

*          *          *

            Abigail was walking down the hallway to rejoin her sister when she rounded a corner and collided with something that nearly knocked her backwards.  She caught herself on the wall at the same time she heard someone apologizing profusely. 

            “It’s fine, I’m fine,” she said, annoyed.  She looked up into a clean-shaven face; two pale green eyes looked back. “Uh,” she stammered, suddenly embarrassed, “you fine, yeah?” She kicked herself mentally.  Was that even English she just spoke?

            The boy laughed. “Yeah, I’m good.  I feel like you caught the brunt of the impact, though.”

            “Yeah…um.  Anyway, I, uh"” Abigail stopped herself in the middle of making an excuse to get out of the increasingly awkward situation and peered at him. “I, I’m sorry, have we met?  You seem really familiar.”

            The boy cocked his head. “No.  No, I don’t think so.” After a moment he held out his hand. “Jay,” he introduced.

            “Abigail,” she said, shaking his hand.

            “But you know,” he said suddenly, “now that I think about it you kinda do remind me of someone.”

            Abigail was about to reply when her cell phone beeped. “Sorry,” she said, digging it out of her pocket.  She checked her messages.  The latest one was from Jess: “Did u die in there?”  Abigail rolled her eyes. “Just my sister.  She’s actually waiting for me, so I should probably--”

            “Well lemme just give you my number, I really do want to figure out why you’re so familiar,” he said, snatching the phone out of her hands.  When she looked surprised, he added sheepishly, “I’m not hitting on you, by the way.  I’ve got a girl back home.  I honestly just want to get coffee and talk.”

            “Oh, sure, yeah,” Abigail said, strangely relieved, “yeah, sounds good.”

            “Great.” He handed her phone back and smiled. “See you around, Abigail.”

            Abigail watched him go for a moment, then shook her head and made her way to the bench when Jess sat waiting.  She looked strangely smug.

            “Who was that?” she asked, nodding in the direction Jay went.

            “Some guy who ran into me,” Abigail shrugged as she grabbed her purse from Jess’s arm. “Come on.” She started walking toward the opposite end of the mall.

            “You gave him your number, didn’t you?” Jess said excitedly as she fell into step beside Abigail.

            “No,” Abigail said defensively.  Jess cocked an eyebrow. “He gave me his--but it’s not for a date or anything,” she interrupted Jess before she could say something, “it’s just for coffee.”

            “Sounds like a date to me,” Jess said with a grin.

            “Well, it’s not.  I’m not even attracted to him, he just seems like an interesting person is all.”

            “Uh-huh.” Jess sounded unconvinced.

            Abigail’s patience was running out fast. “Seriously, Jess, haven’t you ever been drawn to a guy you didn’t wanna go out with?”

            “No,” she said simply. 

Abigail refrained from slapping her hand against her forehead and settled with a sigh.

*          *          *

Abigail stood against the brick building with her arms folded across her chest as she looked up and down the busy boulevard.  Jay was over twenty minutes late and she was getting frustrated.  She was not looking forward to going home only to have Jess tease her about being stood up, even though Abigail had explained countless times that meeting with Jay was nothing more than two acquaintances sharing stories over a cup of coffee in hopes of getting to know each other.  Jess didn’t seem to understand what Abigail meant by being drawn to someone “in a different way” than physical attraction.  Abigail vaguely wondered if her sister would ever mature past her high school mentality.

 

Abigail sighed and closed her eyes.  Thirty-five minutes late. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered and started walking back to the bus stop.

            “Abigail?  Abigail Torrance?”

            She spun around and came face to face with a broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper-haired man.  He was only a few inches taller than she was, but something about his presence made her feel about the size of an insect.

            “Phil,” he introduced, sticking out his hand.  Abigail accepted it suspiciously.

            “You got a last name?” she asked.

            “I do.  But it’s not important.  What is important is that I have something interesting to tell you about your family.”

            Abigail’s stomach flipped at the unprompted and unusually direct statement.  Phil continued to look at her with an odd glint in his eyes.  When she said nothing, he added, “You may want to sit down for this.  Allow me to buy you a drink.” Phil gestured and headed for the bar on the corner.  Against her better judgment, Abigail followed him.

            It wasn’t the kind of establishment Abigail would feel comfortable entering alone.  Not that the bar itself was seedy; the dark counter looked immaculate, the little tables and chairs were scattered around in an orderly pattern, and the shelves of liquor sparkled blue, green, and red in the recessed lighting.  The patrons, on the other hand, were worrisome.  Abigail swore she could feel every pair of eyes on her as she and the strange man she’d just met took a seat at the counter.  Phil ordered himself a martini and insisted Abigail try the tequila sunrise because the one this bar made was “particularly good.”

            Abigail took a reluctant sip of the brightly colored liquid and honestly didn’t see what was so special about it. “So,” she began awkwardly, “how exactly do you know who I am?”

            “Your father and I go way back,” Phil said.

            “Strange, I don’t recall ever seeing you at family gatherings.” She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, doing her best to give off the air of I’m-not-buying-your-bullshit-for-a-second with a hint of don’t-mess-with-me.

            Phil chuckled and stirred the olive around his glass. “Well, we weren’t exactly on the best of terms, your dad and I.”

            “Something tells me things haven’t changed,” Abby said warily.

            Phil acknowledged her comment with a slight nod, still fiddling with his toothpick. “You wouldn’t be wrong,” he said, taking a long graceful sip.

            “So what exactly did you want to tell me?  I kind of need to be somewhere,” she said coolly.

            “I’m sure Jessica will understand if you’re a few minutes late.” Abigail tried to ignore the chill that ran down her spine and crept to her fingertips.  For some reason the way he said her sister’s name infuriated her. “Especially since this concerns her, too,” he added as an afterthought.  He took another sip of his martini.

            Abigail bit back the urge to yell, “Get on with it!” and instead sat patiently, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she sucked more of the Technicolor drink up the straw.  What came out of Phil’s mouth next, however, was nowhere near what Abigail could’ve expected.

            “You have a brother.”

Abigail choked. “I what?” she gasped.  She must have heard him wrong; he couldn’t have just said what she thought he said.

“You have a brother,” he repeated calmly, as if he dropped these kinds of bombshells on a regular basis. “Older.  By about three years.  His name is Jesse.”

“But--how?” Abigail stared, at a loss.  She clutched at her glass for support.

“Your parents weren’t prepared to raise children when he was born, so they put him up for adoption.  Your father has been looking for him ever since.”

Abigail gulped down the rest of her drink, ignoring the burning sensation it caused in the back of her throat and set the glass on the counter with a loud clunk.  She closed her eyes, took a breath, and looked Phil straight in the face.  “So you’re telling me… that my parents had a kid before they had me, gave him up, then had me and my sister and never told us about it?” she asked, her voice a full octave higher than usual by the end of the question.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘never,’ though your father never said it in so many words,” he said with a shrug.

Abigail eyed him warily. “What are you talking about?”

A half-smile crept onto Phil’s face that made Abigail feel very uncomfortable. “All those times when you were little, and your daddy came home late?  You remember, don’t you, Abby?  How tired your father looked, how he became slightly more distant as the years went by?  How he never gave you any straight answers about your mother’s death?”

Phil leaned forward and Abigail involuntarily recoiled.  Something clicked.  She suddenly recognized his voice, where she’d heard it before.  What happened to your wife was regrettable…  Her head felt very light, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the tequila or from what this man was telling her.

“What does my having a brother have anything to do with my mom’s death?” she demanded.  Her hands had started shaking.

Phil raised his eyebrows. “More than you know.  But that is a story for another place and time.” He got to his feet and smiled down at her. “We’ll keep in touch.” And then he was gone.

Abigail just sat there stunned, eyes stinging, and stared at the olive sitting in the half-empty martini.  It looked like a solitary eyeball, and she wanted nothing more than to knock the whole glass onto the floor.

*          *          *

Abigail stumbled up the staircase to the second floor balcony, keys in hand.  It took her a good five minutes to separate the keys and figure out which one matched the door to her apartment, but once she found it she shoved it into the keyhole and tried turning it several times to no avail.  Jess must’ve heard Abigail fiddling with the lock, because her voice filtered out through the open window.

“About time you got home!” she said, her voice getting closer as she approached the door. “I was beginning to wonder if your hot date was starting to monopolize your priorities"” she opened the door, “"the first of which is me, of course.”

            Jess’s smile quickly faded when she saw Abigail’s red-rimmed eyes and generally disheveled appearance.  Abigail glanced briefly up at her sister before pushing past her into the entryway.

            “Abby?” Jess asked quietly.  Abigail only dropped her purse on the floor and shrugged out of her jacket, which would have joined the purse had Jess not come up behind her and helped her remove it. “Abby, what’s wrong?” There was a note of urgency in her voice.  Abby only shook her head, staggered into the living room, and collapsed on the couch, lying very much like a rag doll with her arms and legs hanging over the side. Jess frowned. “Are you drunk?” Her tone was accusatory now.

            “No,” Abigail protested half-heartedly, “I only had one drink.”

            “What was it?”

            “Tequila sunrise.”

            Jess sighed. “Goddamn, just like at Aunt Jane’s anniversary…”

            “It was pretty.”

            “Abby,” Jess joined her sister on the couch, sitting near her head and brushing some hair out of her face, “please, would you just tell me what’s wrong?  What happened today?”

            Abigail smiled and shook her head. “You’re never gonna beee-lieeeve it,” she sang, “I still don’t beee-lieeeve it.” She laughed loudly and buried her face in the couch. 

            “Okay, you’re going to sober up real fast, missy, and you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you,” Jess stated, trying to force Abigail into a sitting position.  She eventually gave up and let Abigail fall back onto the couch.  Jess got up and disappeared momentarily, only to reappear with a tall glass of water. “Here, drink this, and I’ll go make some food to put in your stomach,” she said.

            Abigail forced herself upright with a groan and grasped at the glass, bringing it unsteadily to her lips.  She set it down on the coffee table and then sat with her head in her hands.  After a few minutes of solitude, she called out to her sister.

            “I really don’t feel up to talking about it right now.”

            “Too bad,” came her reply, followed by the clanging of pots and pans.

            Shortly afterward, Jess set down a mug of chicken noodle soup in front of her.  The water was nearly gone and Abigail was feeling marginally better.  “Thanks,” she said, glancing up at Jess, who was standing beside her with her hands on her hips.  Abigail turned her focus to the mug and refused to look anywhere else as she slurped.

            Jess plopped down beside her and the two sat in silence for some time.  Finally, Jess nudged Abigail with her elbow. “So are you gonna tell me why you came tumbling in here looking like death warmed over?”

            Abigail let out a little laugh and shook her head. “It’s gonna throw you for a loop, that’s for sure.  Hell, I still don’t understand it.”

            “Try me.”

 

            Several minutes later Jess was staring blankly at Abigail.  Abigail only raised her eyebrows.

            Jess blinked. “What?”

            “That was my reaction exactly,” Abigail said, leaning back and sinking into the couch.

            “We have a brother.”

            “Yes.”

            “That Dad never told us about.”

            “Yes,” Abigail said, beginning to speak to Jess as if she was a bit slow.

            Jess looked utterly confused. “And this man, Phil, how does he know?”

“Said he and Dad are old friends, but he was really very cryptic about it all.” Abigail wrinkled her nose.

Jess mirrored her expression. “That’s annoying.”

“Yeah.”

They fell silent once again.  Jess sat back and rested her head on Abigail’s shoulder.

“Abby.”

“Yeah?”

“We have a brother.”

Abigail could hear the smile in her sister’s voice. “We do.”

“We’ve got to find him.”

“I know.”

Jess paused. “We should call Dad,” she said tentatively.

Abigail sighed quietly. “I know.” In the retelling of her little adventure downtown, she had left out the details regarding her overhearing Phil and their father talking when she was six, and Phil’s implications that it all had something to do with their mother’s death.  Although she could only remember bits and pieces of the conversation from years passed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their lives were about to become a lot more complicated.

Author's Note

This is a work in progress undergoing constant revision. There are also missing scenes between the mall and the bar scenes; these will be more flashbacks to Abby and her dad varying with scenes between the sisters.

Also, I apologize for the length. Once I write more and see where this is going, I'll break it into chapters.