Chapter 3: Armour

His dash, relatively speaking, didn't last long. The petrol tank has almost been completely full when he started his mad run, so it was the first feeling that he let creep into his consciousness that stopped him roughly a mile before Fort Lauderdale. It was frustration over the fact this run away of his was sorting nothing either. Nothing made sense. His whole life seemed like the haze of movement around him, cars passing and peeping their horns at him for trailing around and not keeping in lane. Sitting at the steering wheel with detached awareness was something that could have killed him if he would've not been lucky enough for the other cars to notice his weird behaviour. Finally he stopped his car at the edge of the road and just as automatically as his driving was all along, he switched on his warning lights as if it would've been expected if he'd stopped at the edge of the highway.

"I lost her," he whispered with his eyes open wide staring ahead. He dropped his head into his hands, not caring about his head support shaking and making his whole body shake with it. It was as if he was sinking into dark, deep hole and he wasn't able to come out by himself. While feeling detached and completely lost he was aware of what should've been there. And they were there. Somewhere. Hurting so much he refused to acknowledge their existence. Despair. Fears. Remorse. Dread… and all the passion still…he didn't want to be lonely and Kimber didn't want to be either, so why didn't she let him love her?

"Why, why, why, why..." He started to repeat frenziedly. How did Quentin hurt her so much that she was not capable to love? Why? Why her? Why now? They almost got married! He shook his head. It was useless, there was no answer to either of these questions and with that he was back to where he started, returning to the numbness making him incapable of any action, feeling or thought.

Wait, why were his jeans feeling damp? He looked down and discerned a darker patch on his knee in the half darkness of the highway. There was a bigger blood stain on his sleeve and some now drying on the palm of his hand. He also became aware of his arm hurting from all the activity. He wasn't supposed to move it much for a few days and now he could feel the blood wetting his shirt where he had to cut his wrist at the request of Carver. His put his other hand over it for pressure in an attempt to halt the slow bleeding. His wound had been properly stitched together and taken care of a few hours ago at the surgery, so the damage could've not been all that much, but it has been continuously bleeding since he was in Kimber's now ex house and it has undoubtedly spoiled one of his favourite shirts. It was only because he didn't take much care of th wound, no big deal. Maybe he should change the bandage and take it easy. There was a medical kit in the boot of his car, and it would've been a useful activity, something he could concentrate on.

He started to come back to reality, and looking around in the mirrors assuring himself no other car was coming he wanted to step out of his convertible. It was then he saw the road sign, right in front of him. It said Fort Lauderdale, 5 miles on it with big, white letters. That was where Abby lived, it occurred to him.

He needed her and he needed her right now. He needed to feel the comfort of a woman. He needed her to want him. It would recreate his fantasy world in which he was a king, and humiliating her with the mask of an conceited, self-satisfied and cold-hearted person would stop him feeling. In such moments he had to believe that was really him. Heartless monsters didn't suffer. He considered for a moment how could he consciously choose to be a callous monster. As if there were two Christian Troys. He shook his head. It didn't matter. Something very powerful drove him to be the other Christian right now. He was strong and resolute and no one could hurt him. Not Kimber, not his foster parents or his biological ones. He needed to be that person now, no matter how undesirable some of his characteristics seemed to the oversensitive Christian. Besides, Abby will have some bandages, he justified himself while putting the car in gear again. Or she would possibly have some, if you can suppose such a thing of the crazy woman at all. Well, no crazier than him, he admitted to himself. Abby was right about what she told him in his office. They were alike. She was definitely warped, and so was he. They needed each other for whatever madness their mind needed to fill the void with.

He would've needed Kimber to feel complete, to feel human, to feel sound.

Abby, or any other woman in fact could not fill the void in his heart, no way on earth. But his confusing past had always haunted him. That was the method he had learnt to cope with life by. If you're upset, hurt someone else to make you feel better. Preferably sexually, was his foster father's overt teaching. And so he was set to. He knew it was wrong. And with all his might, he tried not to. But Abby was different, she was setting herself up for it, she as much as willingly agreed to it.

So he was driving with a destination now until he realised he doesn't exactly remember the address by heart. He'll have to look it up in his notebook where Abby had the nerve to write it in last time she came up to his house after he got the fake letter from Kimber. If he had realised back then it was fake, would anything be different now, he wondered. But it didn't matter. He couldn't make journeys back in time unless we count the old Stranahan House he briefly stopped in front of to consult his address book. The street name made some sense to him, he knew and loved Fort Lauderdale after all for the International Boat Show that took place there, the world's largest boat show featuring more than 1.6 billion dollars worth of boats, yachts,

electronics, engines and thousands of accessories. Maybe he should just call her and tell her to come to Rush Street Martini Bar. But no, where would they go after that. He definitely felt in no mood to drive all the way back to Miami with her. Besides, he was not far off from the given address.

He stopped right in front of the little ranch-style house blocking the drive way. He went determinedly up to the front of the house and knocked on the door hard. Tapping his foot he only waited a few seconds before hammering again.

"Okay, Okay. I'm coming," He heard a barely audible male voice from inside before the door opened.

"What do you want?" An older fat man with long white hair and white beard asked. Some people wore fuzz to hide the fact they were fat. Of course it didn't work. If not for the gruff expression, he could've mistaken him for Santa.

Christian looked at the older man in confusion. He thought he had the wrong house, but then he remembered this must be Abby's father, the one calling her handsome. They didn't seem to have too many similarities though, apart from body mass.

The man was looking up at him, staring with his aloof, dark, squinty eyes, "what do you want?" He repeated impatiently, already shutting the door, looking like he had just been woken up from sleeping in front of the telly and wanted to go back to it.

"I'm here to see Abby," he quickly got himself together.

"We have a door bell you know, no need to knock down the whole house," the man showed him the item a couple of inches to the left of the doorframe, "and what do you want from Abby?" He frowned.

"I'm her plastic surgeon."

"You? The one taking so much money off her so that she can go out and spend a load of money to eat again cause you took some of the pounds away?"

"Well, we don't exactly recommend that after surgery, or that being the reason for it at all."

"But you do take the money, don't you?"

"We presume our patients can decide for themselves what to do with their money...is Abby at home?" Christian tried to get to the point, "I just wanna see how she's doing."

"At this hour?"

"I was...meaning if I could see her as a friend."

"Er...yeah...but...Abby!" He hollered after some hesitation. With that, he turned and let him enter the hallway.

Christina followed him into the living area. The entrance foyer opened to a great room, and the l-shaped kitchen with updated appliances. Christian remained standing perplexed as nobody offered him to sit and was wondering why he had to feel like he was warped right now. The man wasn't exactly the prime example of humankind either. But he was swindling with this man, hurting his daughter. It certainly looked all different when he wasn't in the sanctuary of his own home where he made the rules up.

"Abby?" The man called out again.

Abby ran down the stairs almost immediately after that and was surprised to see Christian waiting for her. Her hair was down and framed her face beautifully, making her look less fat and horse faced, the same way as her stunned widened eyes had the same effect. Yes, there would be quite a few things he could do on an operation table to make her look more agreeable, he thought. But he already knew he was lying to her when he had said the opposite in his office. Her astonished expression didn't tell him though whether she was glad he came or did she wish he hadn't. Maybe she appropriately hated him at this point. Christian didn't know what to think as he greeted her in a neutral tone, "hi."

Abby in fact, was surprised, but because more the way he looked than anything else. Pale, he was like hell warmed over and Abby was puzzled by the tortured look in his eyes instead of the dull and emotionless arrogant look. Having a crush on him, she

felt herself melt at the sight, "come on up," she waved him towards the stairs, ignoring the disapproving frown of her father.

Abby's room was in general tidy, but crowded with a bundle of pictures, sketches, and charts that Christian seemed to stare at when the entered, overwhelmed by the multitude of colours.

"I like to draw," Abby explained, "just a hobby, but I have sold sketches before."

Christian nodded, "it's hard to get through down there," he pointed towards downstairs with his head.

"A little overprotective my old man can be, shall we say?" Abby grinned, "he's harmless, and he does want good, even if he has his own ways to showing it sometimes...that is why you can't stay. I'll come and see you tomorrow evening."

"I'll be quick," Christian put on his nasty grin and grabbed her by the arm forcefully and wrapped his free arm around her tightly. He hauled her toward the bed, "and quiet, we don't even need a bag, just switch off the lights," he said superciliously.

"You realise what would happen if I'd shout?" Abby asked with a wicked grin on her face.

"You won't," Christian reciprocated the expression and pushed her down, towering over her while holding himself up leaning on his hands on the large, wooden framed bed.

Abby suddenly couldn't stand it anymore, no matter where she was and how far her father was from them, she had to feel Christian's wonderful naked body against her

imperfect figure. She reached up to unzip his trousers, happy he let her handle it this time, sliding her hands under it to touch his skin and push the slacks down his buttocks.

At the same time, Christian pulled her skirt up and freed her of her thong in a rather brutal fashion, pulling it to the side and making contact with his intimate parts.

Then before she had time to undress him further she felt the weight that was pressing

on her body being lifted unexpectedly. He slid down off her, and sat to the edge of the bed with his face cradled into his palms.

"What is it now?" Abby asked confused, "new form of torture teasin me?"

He didn't answer, he just sat there, not knowing what to do or say. Because how should he explain to her everything had lost sense for him? That he was lost? He couldn't give himself away that much, but he didn't find the energy to move and leave either.

"Well?" She sat up too, mystified. He seemed to have returned to that initial state she thought she was hallucinating to have seen him in, in the disguise of a lost little boy. She hesitantly lifted her arm and even more uncertainly she gathered the courage to touch him and put a hand on his shoulder. What could've been the worst that could happen? He humiliated her already, "what?" she kept at it, voice soft and soothing, something he didn't deserve the way he treated her. But hey, she was a masochist after all. But then what is the difference between eating chilli and this? They both hurt and weighed her down.

Then when he turned towards her with a sorrowful look of guilt and anguish in his eye he did the most amazing thing anybody could ever do to her, "forgive me for what I've done to you."

Yet her own feelings seemed to be falling in the background and she could really feel his overpowering pain. She was used to him being demanding. It was a voice he used with her all the time. This was a different kind of demand though. An obviously desperate cry soul to soul to ease the pain and she couldn't ignore it.

They stayed that way for a long moment, something that opened the path to the truth.

Christian didn't even contemplate allowing himself to break down in front of her anymore, nothing mattered anyway. Role reversal, it was him crying now silently, not her. He came to humiliate her and instead he's humiliating himself. He wanted to cry out loud, but in the last moment he remembered Abby's puzzling father downstairs.

He was shaking and wondered if it was because of his blood loss being more than he thought or just his feelings. With the motion the stain on the back of his sleeve became obvious.

"Are you...bleeding?" Abby asked incredulously.

"Long story..." He managed to say.

She grabbed his arm staring at red soaked sleeve so that he thought she would maybe faint from seeing all that blood. No way she would have a first aid box.

Instead, she shook her head, "how long have you been bleeding like this?"

"I don't know..." Hell, he didn't know which planet he was on and even less why. How long has it been since it was final it was over with Kimber?

"Lie down..." She instructed him and pushed him down. With the same motion she stood up and while Christian was deep lost in his misery she fetched a very first aid box from somewhere. It was a travel pack.

"Are you able to...?" She started, but taking a look at his fazed out expression she made a dismissing hand gesture, "I didn't think so. Never mind. I'm going to dress the wound again?" She said, awaiting for the surgeon in Christian to oppose.

As none of what she expected happened she went over to her bathroom, washed her hands and knelt down in front of the still Christian opening the box shaking her head, "what happened to you?" He let her take the old dressing off staring into nowhere in particular. Then she disinfected the wound, her movements sure and goal oriented. Next she went to the task of dressing the wound once more, and in a couple minutes was able to stop the bleeding, finishing in record time.

"I've done the best I can," she announced, "which is without your help..." She trailed off insecurely, not sure when the other, cruel and self confident Christian will come out to play. He was properly confusing her.

Christian, confused himself, but thankful for the little quiet intermezzo that helped him gather his strength somewhat, grunted as she pulled the end of the bandage tight

below the wound and pinned the end down. A bit energised by her swift movements and mesmerised by what he had seen he sat up, "you're not a nurse. I know that. Where did you learn that from?"

Abby laughed somewhat sarcastically, "I might be ugly, but that doesn't usually go with being dumb. More often than not quite the opposite don't you think?" Seeing his ever questioning look she added, "I'm part of a group of volunteers they call in case of natural disasters and such. We fly immediately overseas or anywhere actually after an earthquake, tidal wave, hurricanes and the likes. We're all trained to do this, no matter the reason they actually recruited us. We're...also..." She hesitated, "trained to deal with shock syndromes...and you seem to...how should I say...well, you don't have to tell me. You obviously didn't come to tell me. You came to humiliate me again, I get that."

"Goddamn! I said I'm sorry...thanks for the bandage, I gotta go now," he stood determined, desperate to leave and not humiliate himself now any further.

"I can't let you," she grabbed his arm, "not like this. Did you come by car? You'd cause some accident or something."

"What about your father?" Christian asked, feeling a mad rush coming over him. Enough of the misery, this is gonna be a crazy night during which he will set the right order back, as much in his mind as in the outside world. He was Christian, the king of the castle.

"He'll calm down," Abby shrugged, ready to face any difficulties to come in her way. Christian seemed crazier than usual. Whatever role she was usually playing with and for him, she had to stop him now.

tbc