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“Where am I?” I ask quietly. I’d kill for a drop of water, but I’d rather die than ask anything of this man. “What’s happening to me?”
Anderson folds his hands over his chest and smirks down at me. “Why do you ask questions to which you have the answers already? I’m sure you have regained all of your memories, Agent X?” His smile widens into a full-fledged smile that sends chills down my spine. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling so crappy?”
I press my lips together and shut my eyes as an intense pain explodes in my head, along with the strange memories that I’d been subconsciously trying to push back from the moment I opened my eyes. It takes everything inside of me not to submit to the insistent darkness creeping in on me. It promises to end the pain once and for all. I can’t let go, not when my heart is filled with unanswered questions about the man in front of me. If I’m going to die, I want to know how I got to this point.
Who am I, exactly?
Only one person can answer that critical question, so I open my eyes slowly, pushing my pain far away from my consciousness and zeroing my focus on the man who seems to have more control over my life than I do.
“Did you put a hex on me and make me do all those horrible things?”
Anderson leans back against the wall behind him with a dry scoff. “You ask like you matter all of a sudden. I guess a few weeks with a bunch of hothead motorcycle enthusiasts made you feel rebellious. Did he tell you that you’re special or something?”
I look into his deep, fathomless eyes, searching for anything to make sense of my situation. But nothing makes any sense to me… My life now feels like a huge joke, but I’m not laughing.
“Did I really kill for you?”
Anderson shrugs. “Like all of the others, you are my tool. I own you. You get the job done without asking questions.”
“You really are a monster,” I scoff in disbelief. “How do you sleep at night?”
Anderson snickers. The fleeting tweak of annoyance in his dark eyes was the only indicator that he was affected by my words.
“A monster?” Anderson scoffs. “That’s funny, don’t you think? Seeing as this monster made you. I gave you a life…a family. I gave you purpose, Abigail. I guess it’s only fair to pay me back with your life if I demand.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re not making any sense. What do you mean you gave me a life and family? Purpose?” I scoff derisively. “Is that some mind game or are you under some kind of spell too? I walked into your company eight years ago on my own accord. And my family? Laura doesn’t have anything to do with you?”
“Whatever your profile is, Abigail,” Anderson says with a slow smile. “I am the author. Whatever path you took, I made it for you. Laura Miller?” Anderson laughs an amused cackle that seems to bounce off the walls in a mocking echo. “Family? Don’t even get me started. Laura is meant to be your weakness. Something to keep you in check without really being in your way. If you were to remain an obedient dog, I had to throw in some kind of motivation – something to keep you on your toes. What’s more perfect than a pitiful dependent sister?”
I could hear him speak, but my brain wasn’t making sense of his words. Now my physical pain was nothing compared to the wrenching anguish in my heart. “Wh...What are you talking about?” I ask weakly. “Laura, she’s my sister; my only family. Our parents died in an accident long ago but left us a small fortune. I saw myself through high school and college with that. Laura has always been sick, so she’s never out of the hospital much, but we have some memories. Right? I…I walked into your company on my own. I...you don’t have anything to do with any of that.”
I try to wipe the tears sliding down the corner of my left eye but lifting my hand seems like such a chore.
Why the hell am I crying, though?
Maybe it’s because I’m saying these words, but I don’t feel any real conviction. Why am I suddenly not so sure of the life that I led?
“I guess your memory doesn’t go as far back as the time you were sold to me by the owner of the whore house your mother used to work in. You were just a doe-eyed little girl of four, but I instantly saw the potential in you. A pretty little thing you were; feisty and sharp. I immediately wanted you. You cost me quite a bit of money, but you were worth every penny. I raised you; confirmed you to my will…I’m your god, Abigail. I made you. I gave you a regular and an extraordinary life; one as Abigail Miller and the other as the infamous Agent X. But how did you repay me? By sleeping with my enemy. Did you think I was going to let you ride off into the sunset with Pocus? This was my plan right from the beginning.
“I knew that he was following you to get information on me. I also knew that you both shared an extraordinary fate, or so the vision says. I decided to let you both be; throw him a little something to divert his attention. And now that I took you away from him, he’ll be too distraught to continue with his petty plans. I bet you both didn’t see this coming.”
“No,” I mutter in a strained voice. “No, this…none of these is true.”
Anderson steps away from the wall and shrugs nonchalantly. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not because you’re useless to me now. Your energy is running out faster than I thought, it was a waste to try to give you the antidote, you don’t have much time by the look of things.”
“Wh...what’s that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head at me, clucking his tongue at me. “You have failed me, Abigail.” He takes a deep sigh and walks to the door. He wraps his fingers around the doorknob and turns back at me, his mouth curling in a slow chilling smile. “And the price is death.”
With that, he walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
I wonder if it’s normal that I want to laugh and cry at the same time…I would, except I don’t have the strength to even bat my eyelids.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Pocus
Ilet the cigarette dangle recklessly between my fingers and tip my head backward as I down another shot of moonshine. I wish I could wash down my misery with the alcohol, but wishes, obviously, aren’t horses. It’s been more than forty-two hours since she left, and the realization has only begun to set in. I guess I’d been too cocky to presume that she really meant the words she said. But the abrupt text she sent me last night was enough proof of how foolish I’ve been.
