"Did you kill Ana?"
Jacob was rising. Abbie offered her hand. Looking confused, dazed, he took it.
"Come on," she said to the boy. To Francine, she said, "I've no idea if she's alive or dead. Step back from the cave entrance. Once I'm gone, you can check for yourself."
Abbie thought Ana was alive. The air supply hadn't been cut off long enough to kill the monster, though she might have to visit hospital. Currently, Abbie still half hoped Ana would die. Later, if death was the outcome, hopeless self-loathing would no doubt become Abbie's companion.
"Whatever happens to Ana," said Francine. "You're dead. Count on it."
To this, Abbie said nothing. Jacob was up, at her side. Those in her way waited. Abbie refused to look at them. She knew their minds were whirring. They were afraid to attack, having seen what Abbie could do. But they feared having a coward's retreat on their record also. Somehow, they needed a get out of jail free card.
Abbie wouldn't provide one. If she had to deal with them, she would.
"We should leave." It was Ellie who spoke. Abbie waited for the excuse to land. "Ana would want to deal with this herself. If not Ana, her family. You know that."
That was what they needed. Ellie's delivery was improving. It was a mark of Abbie's black mood that she didn't comment.
"Good point," said Francine. "You better watch your back, bitch. Not that it will help."
There was low chuckling from the cave's mouth. Then Ellie, Francine and whoever was with them retreated, stepping out of the cave and into the hard sand, moving from harm's way.
At least temporarily.
Once they were gone, Abbie looked up, out the cave, at the dark sky. Looking to her side, she met Jacob's eye. She took his arm in her hand and pointed towards the cave exit.
"We better go," she said. "Before I kill someone."
She glanced back at Ana. Then to where Ellie and Francine and whoever had exited the cave.
"Before I kill everyone."
Three
They made their way up the beach—Abbie’s hand on Jacob’s arm. Images flashed through her mind—blurred footage. Harry’s hands were on her teenage skin. Someone else was dragging off her clothes. They took it in turns. By morning, Abbie would hate herself. No, despise herself.
“You’re okay now,” she was muttering, dragging Jacob along. Shoving away the memories. “You’re okay.”
Was she talking to him or herself? She couldn’t tell. Bobby’s last message rolled across her mind.
Looking forward to it. Good night. x
Soon she would break his heart. Hers as well. What remained of it.
The trio of beer can hurling morons had departed the beach while Abbie dealt with Ana and crew. Both couples and one of the passed out partiers had also disappeared. Two unconscious drunks and a nervous, pacing Charlie remained. The pacing stopped when Abbie arrived. Releasing Jacob, she punched Charlie in the face, sending him sprawling into the sand.
“You tried to hold me up,” she said. “Did you know what was going to happen? Did you know what that bitch wanted to do?”
On the floor, his head twisting this way and that, Charlie glanced to Jacob, to Abbie, then looked away from both. He couldn’t meet either person’s eye. Too guilty. His cowardice only incited Abbie to further rage.
“Pathetic coward,” she said. Bending, she grabbed Charlie’s shirt. Hauled him up.
Abbie was strong, Charlie scrawny, almost weightless. He came easy. One second he was on his back in the sand; the next, his toes were off the ground.
“Did you know what was going to happen?” Abbie repeated. “Did you?”
Tears made Charlie’s eyes glisten. They bought him no sympathy. Abbie shook the teen, and he moaned but said nothing.
“Answer me,” she said.
Something smacked her back. When she turned, she saw Jacob a couple paces back. Fists clenched, eyes wet but blazing with anger and shame.
“Let him go,” he said. “Put him down now.”
Abbie watched the boy. His fists were still up, his body trembled. In that anger, she saw herself. After Harry and his friends had raped her, Abbie had been a ball of self-loathing and rage. It was lucky her mother had blamed her for what happened. That gave Abbie somewhere to direct her fury. Who knew what she might have done otherwise.
Jacob didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Abbie saw he was serious and nodded. Opening her hands, she let Charlie collapse to the sand with an oof.
“Everything you’re feeling right now,” she said to Jacob. “It’s understandable. It’s okay.”
“Don’t talk to me,” he said. “Who are you to say how I’m feeling? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”
Somehow the boy’s anger, the confrontation, helped calm Abbie. His furious eyes burned through the memories of Harry and distracted from thoughts of Bobby.
“I know a lot of things,” said Abbie. “Got a good head for figures, and I can name pretty much every Sherlock Holmes story and novel. Of course, if you meant to say, You don’t know anything about nanotechnology, that’s much closer to the mark. It has to do with something tiny, right?”
For a second, Jacob was stumped. Then rage overcame his need to understand Abbie’s nonsense.
“Who are you?” he said again. But not in the way one who wants to get to know someone asks, Who are you? He was saying it to make a point. Despite knowing that point, Abbie decided to take the question at face value.
“My name’s Abbie.”
“Nah,” he said.
“No? Oh, maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know anything.”
“You’re nobody,” said Jacob.
There it was. Abbie kept quiet, for once. The boy probably thought his expression showed nothing but powerful rage. In fact, Abbie could see only confused, miserable pain. She wished she could make it go away. No one deserved to feel like that.
“You think you saved me?” the boy went on. “Nah, you did nothing but put yourself in the middle of something that don’t concern you.”
“I have a habit of that,” said Abbie.
“I don’t owe you anything,” said Jacob.
“Never said you did.”
“You’ve no
