Chapter Twenty-Four
Abby
I lock the door to my office, done for the day. It had been a pretty heavy afternoon schedule of clients and I feel bad because I don't think I gave them my full attention. I'm not sure I did a lot of good for them today. I should probably just issue everybody refunds, to be honest. But then, I don't want anybody losing confidence in me, either. I'll just have to get my head straight, buckle down, and do right by them next time.
In my defense, it's not entirely my fault though. I'm kind of caught up in my own stuff at the moment. Having spent a lot of time with Caleb, really talking, and really connecting with him, I'm starting to feel pieces that have been missing inside of me falling into place. Some of them, pieces I didn't even know I was missing.
Reconnecting with Caleb has been terrifying. But in a lot of ways, it's also been amazing. By allowing myself to be open enough to talk to him rather than just shout him down, I forced myself to step outside my comfort zone. Allowed myself to be vulnerable.
Those weren't things that came easily or naturally to me, but it was the only way I was going to get the answers I wanted. The answers I needed for so long. And in a way, spending the time I've been spending with Caleb, getting back inside his mind and getting truth and honesty from him have done more to heal me than all my years of therapy.
I'm meeting Caleb for dinner tonight and I find that I'm actually looking forward to it. There seems to be such an easy air between us. I never thought it possible, but I feel so comfortable around him again. It's like two pieces of a puzzle snapping back together again and I don't want to rush things or read to much into anything just yet, but it feels – right. And I know he feels the same way too.
I walk around the parking lot behind the building that houses my office, pulling my keys out of my bag, and press the button to unlock the door.
“Hello, Abby.”
James' voice stops me in my tracks, sending a lightning bolt of fear shooting through me. I turn around to face him and he's standing just five feet from me, a strange little smile upon his lips.
“What are you doing here, James?”
“I came to see you,” he says calmly. “To talk to you.”
“I thought I was pretty clear that we have nothing left to talk about.”
“Oh, see, but I think we do.”
He takes a step forward and I take one step back. But I bump into my car and realize I have nowhere else to go. I look around quickly, hoping there's somebody around who can help me. But I'm alone – with him.
The look on his face is disturbing and sends a chill through me. There's something in his eyes that sets my nerves on edge. That scares me.
“Fine,” I say evenly. “What is it you want talk about then, James?”
“First of all, I want to talk about us,” he says. “About getting back together.”
I shake my head. “That's not going to happen, James,” I say. “I was very clear about that.”
A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Is this because of him? Because of Caleb?”
“It has nothing to do with Caleb.”
That's not entirely true. The night I broke up with James, starting anything with Caleb again had been the furthest thing from my mind. I was awash in emotions that night, but there were absolutely zero romantic feelings for Caleb. Things had changed since then, obviously.
But that's not the point.
The point is that if Caleb had anything to do with my breaking up with James, it was only in that I was so overcome with emotion that I finally hit my breaking point. It made me realize a lot of things – things that honestly, were a long time coming. I needed to take control of my life, my sanity, and my happiness back – and that's exactly what I did.
Not that James was going to understand that.
“No?” he asks. “If it has nothing to do with Caleb, why did you fuck him the other night?”
His question made my breath catch in my throat and my blood run cold. How in the hell could he have possibly known that I slept with Caleb? Unless –
“You're stalking me,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“I'm looking out for your best interests,” he corrects me, his voice full of emotion. “I happened to see you come home with him. I peeked in your windows to make sure you were okay and saw you screwing him, Abby.”
“You've got to be kidding me.”
That he could rationalize stalking me that way is more than just creepy. It's terrifying. And it shows me that James is dangerous. I don't know what's going through his mind, but I know that if he's stalking me, it can't be good. I need to get out of there. Get away from him.
“Look, James,” I say, doing my best to keep the nervous flutter out of my voice. “It's been a long day and I want to go home and get some rest. Let's get together later in the week to talk about everything. I'm open to hearing –”
“I'm afraid it's too late for that, Abby,” he says. “That bus has already left the station.”
“What are you talking about, James?”
His cheeks flare with color and he looks almost ashamed, but he pulls his hand out of the pocket of his windbreaker and he's holding a gun. The adrenaline pours through me, making my head almost buzz with its intensity. My heart is pounding in my chest like I'd just run a marathon and my eyes widen as I stare at it.
“What are you doing, James?” I ask, my voice cracking with fear. “Why are you holding a gun?”
“Because you're not thinking clearly, Abby,” he says. “And I need to protect you. Get you away from here. Away from him. Allow you to relax a little and get your head back on straight.”
“James, don't do this,” I say. “You don't want to do this.”
“I'm not doing anything,” he replies, his voice smooth and calm. “I only want to keep you safe. Protect you. Even if I'm only protecting you from yourself.”
I shake my head. “I don't need to be protected, James,” I say. “I just need you to put the gun down.”
He looks at me and I can see the resolve in his face. He's committed to this course of action and there's nothing I can say or do that's going to change his mind. The only thing I can do is call for help. Or run. Either of which very well could earn me a bullet.
“I don't want to do it this way, Abby. Believe me,” he says. “But we were happy. And then all of the sudden, this guy shows up and we're not? It's obvious to me that you're not yourself. That you're not thinking or feeling clearly. As a trained therapist, you should know yourself well enough to know that.”
“James, I –”
He waves the gun in my direction without pointing it at me. “We have to go now, Abby,” he says. “Get into the car. Please.”
“This doesn't have –”
“The car, Abby,” he says. “Get into your car now. You're driving.”
I look around frantically, looking for somebody, anybody who can help me.
“Abby,” he says, finally raising his gun, but keeping it pointed low. “Please don't make me ask again. Please get into the car.”
With no other options available to me, I reluctantly open the door and get behind the wheel. James comes around quickly and gets into the passenger seat. He keeps the gun in his hand, but it's pointed away from me.
“W – where are we going, James?”
“I want you to drive down to the marina,” he says. “We're going for a little pleasure cruise.”
“Where are you taking me, James?”
“To my cabin,” he replies. “It's quiet. It'll give you a good space to think. To clear your head.”
“Please, I –”
“Start the car and drive, Abby,” he says, his voice suddenly ice cold. “I don't want to hurt you. I've never wanted to hurt you. But you need to do what I say now, so I don't have to.”
The tone of his voice tells me that he's serious. That something inside of him has snapped and he's gone off the deep end. And I know that if I don't do what he says, he's going to kill me. Maybe he's going to anyway, I don't know.
All I do know is that as long as I do what he says and play along with him, I'll stay alive. And if I'm alive, there's hope for escape. For rescue. For something. I know that it's not going to be long for people to realize I'm missing, and once they do, they'll be out looking for me.
I just need to stay alive until they find me.