Inhaling a sharp breath, I lean back when Abby places her face directly in front of mine. She’s leaning over me, her eyes studying my body. Her violet eyes spark with a fire. Her gaze digs into me, chills breaking out across my skin.
At what point did my best friend’s eyes turn from kind and caring to this? Evil and dangerous.
She lifts her hand, the one with the gun and points the barrel at my chest. “I always thought this sweater looked better on you than me.” She drags the gun down the line of my collarbone, drawing a path down between my breasts. She stops on the spot over my heart.
My heart beats against the barrel of the gun and when I look down, I realize what Abby’s talking about. I’m wearing the sweater she had given me back in Providence.
I swallow, my breath catching in my throat. “You were the one who broke into my house?” Tears are now falling down my cheeks, splashing onto the fabric of Natalie’s sweater. It smells fresh of cigarettes, the same familiar scent of the specific kind she smokes. Tobacco and mint.
“What was that?” She tilts her head closer to my mouth.
I sob as the fabric tied around my mouth digs deeper into my skin. Abby’s eyes scan my face before landing on my mouth. She pouts. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does this make it hard for you to talk?”
I don’t answer her. My body is cold and stiff.
“Here,” she says, wrapping her hands around the tie. “As long as you promise not to scream. I’ll remove this.” When she moves the fabric and it drapes around my neck, she lifts her hand and tucks my hair behind my ear. The gesture is odd and causes the knot in my stomach to twist even more. Her fingers graze against my cheek. “Now, what was it you were saying?”
I swallow. My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth and it takes several attempts for me to speak before the words finally come. “I asked,” I croak. “I asked you if you were the one who broke into my house.”
“Wow,” Abby scoffs. “I guess I didn’t give you enough credit, Lena. You aren’t completely clueless after all.”
I stare at Abby, my eyebrows dipped in confusion. What is she talking about? I’ve known Abby for years but this woman isn’t Abby. I don’t know her at all.
A small ping rings from my pocket followed by a vibration. My eyes spread wide when I realize it’s my phone. Abby’s expression matches mine as both our eyes move to my waist.
I slam my back against my seat, not wanting her to attempt to reach for my phone. Deep down, I know it’s Logan. And if Logan were here I’m not sure what she would do.
Abby must know it’s Logan as well because her hands are suddenly gripping the arms of the chair, pulling me back toward her. She keeps the gun pointed to my chest. With her free hand, she slides her arm between us and reaches into my pocket. I’m crying as soon as I see my phone wrapped up in her hand. It feels as if she’s pulled at a string tied around my heart, constricting me.
Abby’s holding my phone in the palm of her hand. She lifts it and turns it to show me Logan’s name flashing on the screen. He’s calling me again. Then again.
She ignores both calls, focusing back on me.
Her purple painted lips open, words resting on the tip of her tongue. My phone rings again, interrupting her. She rolls her eyes and groans. “Always in the way,” she mutters, pulling her knee out from between my thighs.
My stomach turns, I’m completely confused by Abby. So many questions run through my mind. Why is she doing this? What does Natalie have to do with me and her?
Abby’s phone starts to ring from inside her pocket and when she pulls it out, her cheeks blush red with anger. She ignores it, sliding her phone back into her pocket.
I inhale a deep breath, hoping Logan will come to the office. He knows I will always answer my phone, no matter what.
Abby leans into me once again. This time she grips the back of my chair, placing her chest in my face. She hovers over me, her face within inches of mine. I refuse to tip my chin up to face her.
I stare at the necklace dangling from her neck and close my eyes.
“Look at me, Lena.”
I don’t move, refusing to give her the satisfaction. Then suddenly her hand is gripping on to my chin. Her fingers press into my flesh as she forces me to look up at her. I squeeze my eyes shut as she drags the pad of her thumb across my bottom lip. Heavy bouts of breath escape the small gap between my lips. Her thumb continues to slowly drag across my mouth, tracing around the curves of my lips. She stops when there’s a loud knock on the door.
My name is shouted from the back of the office and a part of me internally sighs with relief. It’s Logan. He knew I was here, and that something was wrong.
“Lena,” he yells again.
I open my mouth, ready to shout back to him when Abby’s hand stops me. She presses her hand against my mouth, her skin burning against mine. I sob as she dips her head and starts to lift the fabric back over my mouth.
“Shut up,” she seethes.
I shudder as the tears fall down my cheeks. She tightens
