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I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now.
Is that an ache I feel in my left arm?
Am I too young for a heart attack?
Or is this the pain of loss?
Shaking my head, I keep my fingers tight on the charm, squeezing it for all it’s worth. Squeezing it so hard I’m thankful it’s made of a strong metal. I’d hate to deform its beauty.
Reaching my room and standing outside it, I struggle to take a breath in. It’s as if all the oxygen in the world has suddenly been ripped away.
The pain is both emotional and physical. A chaotic storm of loss and regret.
I would give anything for one more moment in her presence. To have one more smile from her lips. To hear her sweet voice. To feel those delicate fingers brush against my own. To smell the sweet fragrance she’d always leave behind wherever she passed through.
Putting my hand against the wall, I try to will myself to move, to take a step into the room and see what Abigail has left me. But I can’t make myself do it. The pain is too fresh. Too much for my mind to wrap itself around.
She’s gone.
And I’ve been left here alone. With no one to quiet the screams building inside my head even now. The voices of the damned begging to be let out.
Putting my hand on the grip of my gun, I try to let the cool metal calm my frayed nerves. Let the peace and serenity I desperately need to fill me.
But I can’t.
The one thing in this world that fills all those cracks inside of me is gone.
I push my bedroom open wide enough to see what was left for me.
There, sitting in the middle of my bed, is Abigail’s stuffed panda bear.
She never goes anywhere without Molly.
Examining the tattered bear, I see a small note resting against its side.
Turning away from the bedroom, I head to the guest room directly across from it.
Opening the door, I pull my suit jacket off my shoulders and gently place it on the side of the bed.
Sitting down next to my jacket, I finally let out the sigh that’s been building in my chest since I first entered my father’s office.
They may have taken Abigail from me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll just sit idly by and let her go. I’ll keep watch of her every step of her way. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.
And I’d rather slit my own throat than let her get away.
