Well...That didn't last long did it? :P I just couldn't keep myself away!
Thank you all again for all the support. You can not phathom how excited it makes me to see everyone review or favorite or even just read.
Bioware owns the place. I made adjustments.
Lost in my Thoughts
I killed someone.
I killed two people.
Those thoughts overwhelmed me, and the outside world meant very little. The faces of the dead sticking to me, Ser Ronald's sunken grey face from Tanin's spell, and the blood mage himself, as he tried to control me.
I heard arguing and yelling, but the words meant nothing to me. I couldn't tell if I was on the ground or standing. I was not even sure if I was still alive.
"Hold on Abby, I will free you." Lodan's voice drove through my state of dreaming. The only reason it did because of how scared he sounded. He's scared of me.
So I drifted in my own mind, looking for something I felt was missing.
I was eleven. My straight black hair pulled back in the usual two pigtails my aunt preferred. I discovered that I was looking at little me. A watching ghost in my own mind.
I was playing with a doll, probably brand new. I remembered the scene abruptly. Yes, the doll was brand new, a bribe to get me to stay put in the same room with my father. Where was he?
The scene remained unchanged for a short time. Mini-me picked up another doll and started playing house with the two toys, muttering to herself as she made up the story of their lives.
Suddenly, my father walked into the room. He was the matching stereotype to all biker gangs, the leather outfit, the long hair and scruffy face. He sat down on a chair put there for him and began to watch my imagination at work. I did not acknowledge that he had even entered the room.
"Hello Abigail." His rough voice also added to the biker persona.
I ignored him still, brushing at a particularly nasty hair piece on one of the dolls.
"I know it's been awhile," he continued, "but I've been busy. I'm sorry." I couldn't fault him for one thing; he was determined.
"It's okay daddy," my little me voiced. No, it isn't. I thought.
"Really? That's good."
Dodged that bullet didn't you. Just crush her soul now, so she doesn't have to wait for you to do it later in life like I had to.
"Uncle Justin took me fishing the other day," little me said. She carefully put the dolls around a table strategically, so one wouldn't fall and cause a domino effect.
"Did he now? Did you catch anything?"
"Yah. It was a pike. But Uncle Justin said it was too small, and I had to throw it back in the lake. He took a picture of me with it though."
"I'd love to see it," he gave a smile.
To hell you do. You never saw that picture. He would leave an hour later, and be gone for six months. By the time I was forced into this room again he had long forgotten about my first catch.
My father scratched at his face. "Didn't it bother you that you could have killed that fish?"
"A little. But Uncle said that I eat cows and piggies, and that didn't bother me, so the fish shouldn't either." I started to serve my dolls a pretend dinner.
"Hm, that man has good logic. Your mother was a vegan. I'm glad you're not going to turn out like her."
I stopped playing. He had crossed a line.
Good job dad. Wreak her day a little more and tell her you won't be home for her birthday.
"Abigail? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I just meant-"
"It's okay daddy." I slowly started playing again.
"No it's not, I shouldn't have brought it up. I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Fat chance of that.
The memory started to fad, ending with my father promising things he could never, or would never do.
I was watching a younger me walk through the halls of my high school. From the skirt I was wearing, the minimal makeup, and my hair back in a headband, I guessed that I was going through my "innocent school girl" phase. That placed my age to be fifteen.
I followed teenage me to my locker. It must have been lunch because I didn't seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere.
"Hey! Faggot!"
Her head whipped up to pin-point the accusers voice. I looked to see a younger version of Mike was backed up against a wall. Three boys surrounded him, taunting him and calling him more vile names. She-or I-walked over in a huff.
"Hey! Leave him alone!"
The boy turned around. I recognized him to be Sam Huntington, the main bully of the school.
"What you going to do about it prissy?" he snickered.
"Oh, I can think of a million things I could do, but what I will do is tell your father exactly how his precious Ferrari was crashed." I smiled wickedly.
Huntington paled visibly. "Come on guys. We can get him later." The boys gave Mike on more savage glare and left.
"I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life," Mike said. "How the great Sam Huntington was beat down by a girl with words."
I picked up his discarded books and gave them to him. "It's what I do," I chimed.
He thanked me and we skipped to the cafeteria, laughing all the way. After we got our respective food, him pizza, me a salad, we sat down.
Was my life this simple once? How has it come to what I know now?
"Ugh. I am stuffed." Mike leaned back in his chair.
"I hope so," I joked. "You ate enough pizza to sink a battle ship!"
He rolled his eyes. "Come on Abby, I'm a growing boy! I need all the nutrients I can get."
"Eating pizza?"
"There's veggies in there!"
I giggled. I picking at my half eaten food.
"Abigail, can I ask you something?" Mike had his super serious face on.
"I'm I in trouble?" I asked with a grin.
"No, it's just…I was looking at university scholarships the other day. One was in Utah. If I get good grades and win some track races, I can get a full scholarship."
I put my fork down. "Utah, in the States. Where bullying is at its worst."
"I know, I know, but I need to get out of here." He ran a hand through his clean cut hair. "There's a really great biology program you know. Look, I know you want to get out too. We promised each other we would stay friends no matter what."
Now I've broken that promise by leaving. I'm so sorry Mike.
I started to recognize the memory. It was a few weeks after a kid had committed suicide because he had been brutally bullied because he was gay. That was why Mike wanted to leave. He didn't want the same fate from Sam Huntington and his cronies.
Cue me being worried.
"I just don't want you to be put into a situation where…" I left the sentence hanging, well aware he knew what I was talking about.
"That's why you have to come with me. Come on Abby, I promise it will be the greatest decision we ever make together."
"Shake on it."
"What?"
"Shake on it. Promise that if I go with you to the States, I won't live to regret it. That we will have the freaking time of our lives no matter what." I shoved my hand at him.
He took it solemnly. "Deal."
"I hate you!"
The voice belonged to me. I was standing on a suburban road, wearing a dress. A house stood behind me, loud techno music pumping from the bass. My bedraggled father stood across from me. I knew it had to be the night after my graduation, I could recognize this place easier then my childhood home.
"I apologized Abigail. What more do you want from me?" he waved his arms like a mad man.
"All you had to do was show up! Why was that so hard? Were you in jail again? Half way across the country? Stoned out of your mind perhaps?"
"I…I forgot."
I was stunned. "You forgot."
"Yes, I forgot your graduation." He looked at his boots.
"Bullshit."
"Please Abigail. I want to make it up to you. Please forgive me," he begged pathetically.
"I wish you were dead," I hissed.
"That's a sin Abigail," his voice darkened suddenly.
I threw my hands up at the sky. "Says the man how hasn't gone to church in twenty-five years."
"Take it back."
"No. I won't. I don't ever want to see you again. Get lost dad." I walked back to the house.
"Abigail!" he yelled. But I ignored him.
I didn't ever see him again after that night.
You were right about one thing dad. I never really wanted you dead. I wonder what you would think of your murderous daughter now.
A different voice called me.
"Abby…Abby, wake up. Abigail, please come back."