To fear it's all taken away
He was trembling inside – what had she found? She looked hurt, scared and... betrayed. He could explain anything to her, except proof of them being siblings. Remembering how he had felt himself when he found out, he knew her reaction would be just as violent. Finding out that he was adopted wasn't even a patch on how he'd felt when he realized that she was his...sister. Occasionally, he felt sick still when thinking of it, but he had had years to come to terms with it. She wouldn't give herself the time, he just knew that. Desperately clutching her hand, he thought: If she knew, then everything would be over, and he might as well kill both her and himself. It would be the end of all things anyway.
Xxx
Opening her hand, she showed him the key.
«You've got a hidden room full of weapons downstairs. Why? There's enough guns and knives down there to wage a war, Henry! Or» - her voice fell to a whisper – «to kill an entire island.»
His face fell, and she saw surprise flitter across his face, replacing his worried frown.
«Oh. That. You've been looking around in the basement?»
«Yeah, and I found it. I'm... I'm scared, Henry. Why would you keep so many weapons? And why hide it? Does this have anything to do with what happened here? Please, tell me – it's not that, you didn't have anything to do with that, Henry?» She could hear the pleading in her voice, and she hated it. Right now, she wanted to be strong, not begging. Begging for him to be the one she could trust with her life.
«Oh, Abby, how can you believe that? It was... I'm ashamed. It's for hunting, the room was meant to impress Trish's Dad. I have to admit, I overdid it. It's just too much.»
«Too much? Yeah, I'd say that! I've never even seen that many weapons in one place before! You could kill off all the animals on the island – and all the people too!»
«No,no, Abby, calm down – it's not that. Just for hunting – just a showroom. And it's hidden because of Trish. She wasn't any more partial to keeping weapons in the house than you are. Come, let's go downstairs – it's easier to explain when we're there!»
She followed him reluctantly, still scared by the amassed guns and knives. But it was Henry – he couldn't harm anyone, could he? He had killed both Sully and Wakefield, but it was self-defense! No, he couldn't hurt her, not him.
«I feel like Bluebeard's wife, finding the key and that room», she said nervously, walking down the stairs behind him.
He couldn't hide his smile, but thankfully she wasn't able to see his face. A lot closer to the mark than she knew. He had killed his bride, hadn't he? But not Abby. Never. He wouldn't have to, he could explain this to her satisfaction.
«So, hunting, Henry? I didn't know you did that.» Her voice was telling, she didn't like the thought of him hunting at all, he could hear it.
«I don't. Mr. Wellington did. I can...shoot, but I don't hunt much, you know that. This was just to impress him, like I said.»
She sighed a little with relief, saying: «No, I didn't think you did, I know you wouldn't hurt anything living. But this – this was just too much for me. Seeing all this... With all that happened here, and... God, that's one big, ugly knife! What would you use something like that for?»
He was so touched by her eager willingness to believe him, to trust him. At the same time, having her her down in his secret room with all his weapons – the symbol of him as a killer - was exciting. It was a safe way of combining the two things he loved: Abby, and murder. Moving towards her, he could see she shivered a little, and it only spurred him on. Leaning down, he caught her mouth, kissing her, whispering: «Whales. Maybe deers.» Or people.
Backing her up to his workbench – the very same where he had propped up the Reverend's body for dismembering a few weeks ago, before disposing of him in the water – his hands roamed her body possessively. She gasped a little, kissing him back passionately, and he pulled up her skirt, noticing with pleasure that she didn't have any panties on. That had to be for him – she'd dressed up for him, earlier! Seating her on the bench, he knelt between her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs and moving towards her center. He loved to taste her – to feel her shiver with every little flick of his tongue and mouth. She grabbed his hair, holding on to his head as if it was the one solid thing in a melting world. Bringing her to a shuddering climax, his reward was the way she moaned his name. Nothing could turn him on more than her wanting him. He literally ached for her!
Xxx
He rose, giving her a quick flash of a smile, but she could see that it was urgent. He fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, and she pushed his shaking hands away, buttoning his pants down, feeling him strain against the fabric. Sighing, he entered her, closing his eyes. His whole body quivered a little, as he moved very slowly inside her, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Oh, he was on the brink, holding back – to prolong it for her sake, she knew it. Whispering his name, she knew he'd open his eyes, and that would be the end of his control. At first when they started having sex, she'd been a little worried he was closing his eyes to imagine Trish – but she had soon realized that it was almost the other way around. He always opened his eyes as he came, looking at her as if he was amazed that she'd have him.
«Henry!», she repeated, «look at me!»
As he opened his eyes, she was thrilled to see the effect. The intensity in his eyes drew her in, and she whimpered with pleasure as he rammed himself into her, moving with a desperate urgency. He shook with his release, gasping her name as he kissed her.
Leaning his head into her shoulder, he whispered: «I love you, Abby, I love you».
«Oh», she said lamely, knowing that it wasn't just a confirmation of his feelings – it was a question of her feelings too.
No, she didn't know if she loved him like that. She only knew that she needed him in her future, much more that she'd ever needed him in her past. But she couldn't possibly lie to him. And she could see the hurt in his eyes grow as she didn't respond.
Xxx
«This flat is great, Henry! Look at the view. It's so light and airy, spacious... I can already imagine - couch here, tables there, dinner table – and definitively bar stools at that high counter, and...» she stopped, realizing that it really wasn't her business to furnish and decorate his new flat in Seattle. He was smiling at her, though, looking happy.
«But that's just my ideas, you know. You'll probably want to do something different, you're the one who's going to live here,» she finished weakly.
His face grew dark, and he turned away, taking out a measuring tape.
«I have to see what I'll keep from the other apartment, what I can fit in here. Maybe I'll just buy new stuff,» he said as he measured up the space between the windows. She could tell he was upset – but they hadn't talked about living together! Wrapping her arms around his chest, she could feel his heart racing. He was nervous? Even afraid? He held her hard for a moment, before continuing his task.
Entering a smaller room beside the living room, she could picture herself writing in there. Her desk, her shelves, her favorite chair for reading. The windows went all down to the floor, and it would be lovely seeing all the city lights from above. A little dreamily, she called to him: «This is the perfect place to write! The view is such an inspiration, this has got to be the home office!»
He walked up to her, a hopeful look on his face. «What would you write in here?»
«I don't know, I haven't started on anything new since everything happened.» Barking a short laugh, she told him: «My publisher is all over me for writing a thriller. He tells me that it would make me rich, now. I don't know, it's not really my style.»
He smiled, saying: «I'm sure whatever you write, it'll be great!»
«Yeah, right!» she snorted. «All people want is gossip from the island. If I wrote a thriller, they'll only be speculating if this was something I experienced or not, they wouldn't care about the quality of my writing. If I wrote – let's say: Swinging from a tree, the killer cut down the body from the tree before she was dead and stabbed...»
«Wouldn't happen», he said a little preoccupied, as he smoothed the hair away from her face, «neck normally breaks at the impact as the body falls... What?» he broke off, seeing her stare at him.
She shook her head. «Sometimes, you scare me. Like with all those weapons. How do you know things like that? It's like there's a part of you I don't know at all.»
He was visibly shaken by her words, and tried to answer a couple of times before the words came out: «It's, it's just something I read. I, I – this was my way of coping with everything after the first rampage. You tried to forget, I read all about it. I had to.»
Xxx
She had insisted on helping him clean out the old apartment, but he really didn't want her help. It would only make her more unsure. What with all of Trish's belongings, and Shea would be there too with Madison! And she was obviously far more undecided that he liked to think of.
Shea and Madison were going to pick out anything they wanted as a memory. As he stuffed all his clothes into bags and suitcases, he kept glancing nervously into the kitchen where Abby and Shea were talking, packing up all Trish's silverware.
But what were they saying? As he had feared, Abby had looked sad and insecure all day, and Shea was not helping. He guessed she had a new strategy. The previous one – all out attack and freezing stares – hadn't worked. Now she was friendly to Abby, but the cold glances she threw his way made him only sure of one thing: Shea was doing some serious backstabbing.
«What are you going to do with all her clothes?» Madison was staring at him from the door.
«Um, I don't know. I'm not going to wear them. Would you like some of them?» he asked, trying to play the friendly uncle - or former uncle to be, as she had pointed out at the funeral.
«They're to big. When I'm big enough, they'll be old. I don't want that.»
«Not even for playing and dressing up?»
«No. I don't like it.»
«Well, I guess I'll have to give it away to a charity foundation.»
«You mean for beggars to wear them? Wow. Those beggars will be well dressed. No one will give them any money if they have so nice clothes. That's funny, maybe they'll starve!» She laughed, and he felt as usual uncomfortable by her presence. No wonder his Dad had liked her – she was definitively spooky enough to impress a toughened serial killer.
Xxx
He was restless and scared. These days, after they'd cleaned out his old flat, Abby was acting oddly, not looking him in the eyes, and talking very little. Distant, that was the way she behaved. He was terrified it was too much for her: Their relationship, the grief, Shea's behavior, the media, the guilt he knew she felt about Jimmy... Damn, he hated that guy! It was a good thing he was already dead.
When they were caught out by a photographer in the new apartment, he wasn't happy at all. The picture of him kissing her was plastered on front pages, and shown on TV. Speculations were rife again – what had really happened at Harper's? Some of the speculations were a little too close to the truth for comfort. And Shea had screamed at them both – repeating the absurd accusations that they both were in on the killings. As if Abby could kill anyone?
«It's her! Shea set this up!» he raged. «I know it! How else would that photographer even know where we stayed?» He was banging his fists in the wall – all the while thinking that he shouldn't be this angry in her presence. But Shea – he'd kill her. It had to be like an accident, though he'd love to stab her, string her up – anything that would give her time to be scared. But he couldn't. It had to be inconspicuous.
She just shrugged, sitting in the middle of the bed, clutching a pillow in her arms.
«Maybe she did. I don't know. If this is her, she didn't exactly protect the family reputation, did she?»
He tried to calm down – for her sake – saying: «And what do we do now?»
At that she answered: "Call Bill. The publicist – he's got to have some ideas."
Strange, she seemed totally unfazed by his display of anger. But then, she'd always been, hadn't she? Not like Trish, at all. And that's part of why he loved her. She could manage his anger too, not only his love. He only needed to make sure she stayed with him. No matter what.
Xxx
Bill wasn't happy at all, scowling at Abby. Henry felt his irritation with the man grow by the minute.
«Why would the two of you do something this stupid? It's quite possible one of the worst strategies you could have followed, losing a lot of sympathy in the public eye.»
«It wasn't exactly a strategy», Abby said, «it just happened».
Henry didn't say anything – after all, his strategy had been successful. He had Abby, hadn't he?
«You have to do another interview, both of you together, telling the public how you fell in love.»
«How we fell...in love?» she said, looking surprised.
Her surprise hurt him. Didn't she love him at all? Maybe she didn't – yet. But she would, he'd make her! She was his now, but not completely – yet.
She threw up her hands: «Give me a minute alone – I've got to think about this», and like that, she left the room.
That left him and Bill staring at each other. Bill smiled a little nervously at him, obviously sensing his anger.
«I just... I don't understand why you did this. It's really very...unexpected. And I thought...»
Abby's words had felt like a bucket of ice down his back. Was their relationship too new, too fragile to survive this? Trying to block out the thoughts, he did his best to concentrate on Bill's words. Instead he lost himself in a phantasy of how to kill him. Smiling a little – "Kill Bill" was one of his favorite movies – he saw himself cutting Bill up, starting with his hands, going on to hack off his arms by the elbow. Then his feet, legs and ...
As Henry rose from his chair, Bill looked scared.