Chapter 16

“Let me carry your luggage.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Nicholas guided Abigail to his new house. He had been living there for the last couple of years after his parents left.

“Suit yourself,” he said, as he opened the gates to his little home. Abigail slowly entered, surprised at the poor condition of the place.

“You live here?”

“Well, yes, I do. Why? Does it look like a dumpster?”

She looked around and gathered her things to head to the nearest room. “You could say it does, but if you were homeless, that’d be a greater problem, so it’s alright.”

Abigail headed to one of the rooms, and settled her things at the corner. There was a small bed to lay on, and a flickering light bulb with broken tubes. There was dust all around the place, as if it had been untouched for several years. Moreover, it looked so unkept that it could be compared to an abandoned crime scene with many tales of horror.

Abigail left her luggage and moved around to explore the house. It was in a total state of disrepair, with unkempt landscaping and peeling paint. The interior was cluttered and dirty, with a pervasive musty and unpleasant odour. There were signs of substance abuse, such as drug paraphernalia, empty liquor bottles, and prescription medication strewn about.

The shelves near the living room had raggedy clothes, random objects such as wallets, cards, one too many drivers’ licence, with some money thrown about all over the place.

The decor and furnishings were of a sparse and low-quality, reflecting his lack of care for resources to put into his living space. Abigail wondered how it was possible for someone to live like that, and it seemed to be a miracle.

The windows were all covered up, and there were evidences of illegal activities. There were some broken cameras, dirty rusty knives, bullet holes in the doors, and what not. Abigail would not have been surprised if he also had some hidden compartment and pathway in the house.

After thinking hard and coming to her own conclusions, Abigail returned to her room and locked her door, as if by an instinct. She laid down on the broken bed and somehow managed to turn over without breaking it.

It was scary and interesting for her at the same time how every object in the house and even the man himself had perhaps lived through a very complicated past, and had a rich history to share. Her thoughts wandered to her podcast shows and her fans, and a thought came to her.

Was there any possibility that somebody who was genuinely loved her could be searching for her?

It was a meagre thought, but it drove her heart to the edge. How hard must it be to leave the past and create a new future?

She tossed around her bed. She remembered Marianne, the girl who hated her so much that she dedicatedly wrote hate letters to her. How is she doing now that she has left?

“Now that I think about it... her smile was gorgeous...”

Abigail whispered to herself, drawing circles on the bed with her finger. Could everything that had happened simply be a misunderstanding? What was the possibility?

Meagre, most likely.

Abigail closed her eyes, trying to avoid thinking too much about her situation. A misfortune like that could happen to anyone, there was nothing special about it.

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