The Stranger by Mark Ayre (ebook reader wifi .txt) 📕

the arm that held it “—and plunge it into Leona’s stomach, knowing you were impaling not only her but also her baby? Could you kill them both and call Leona’s murder execution and the baby’s abortion? Could you? Go on, tell me.”

Through deep sobs, Eddie could produce no answer. Even if he defeated the tears, shame might have throttled him.

Pricks of shame crept into Abbie, too. How tight her hand gripped his wrist. She could see Eddie’s hand whiten. Could see it shake over the knife. Still, she could not let go.

“I’m waiting for an answer. Could you murder that baby? Could you do it?”

He was shaking his head.

“Tell me,” she said. Holding Eddie tighter.

“No. No, I couldn’t. I can’t. It’s not the same. I know it’s not the same. Please, let me go. I know it’s not the same.”

With her free hand, Abbie grabbed the knife from Eddie. When she unclasped her other hand, releasing his wrist, Eddie collapsed to his knees, pressed his head into the carpet, and sobbed deep, desperate tears.

These days, Abbie could kill a man and go out for a nice meal. Sometimes, she would feel a deep, distant throbbing that indicated she felt unease with what she had become. She never cried, never felt sick. She might have been a robot.

After hurting Eddie and forcing him to contemplate the actions he had threatened, after driving him to the ground, to tears, to despair and desperation, Abbie felt her stomach churn, the bile rise in her throat. As she swallowed, she was struggling to keep the tears at bay. Like a plastic sheet pulled taut over the face, Abbie’s self-loathing made her fight for breath, as though it were trying to kill her.

In the presence of what she’d done, she might collapse beside Eddie and disappear into that despair. Still holding the knife, she rushed from the living room, slamming the door behind her.

Across the hall was the office, and it was in here that Abbie went. The knife she placed on the dusty bookshelf. In the small space between the bookshelf and the desk, she went onto her haunches, tucked her chin into her chest and put her arms over her. With her hands, Abbie pulled down her head as though she might be able to collapse in on herself.

While Abbie could repress the urge to be sick, she could not fight the tears, and they overcame her. From her haunches, she slipped to her behind, her shoulder pressed against the bookshelf. Her hands she brought to her face, lest the computer look upon her and be repulsed by what she was.

A monster.

She might save Eddie’s life. Would it be worth it if she destroyed his soul? And what was the point of saving all these lives if she was not permitted a soul or a life of her own?

Desperate, angry, bitter, Abbie stayed where she was for several minutes. Wrapped in self-pity, she lost what she was trying to achieve. If Ben could have seen her, he would have been disgusted, as he was disgusted in the early days when she confessed to him her fear of what she would become, should she pursue the path onto which he was attempting to push her.

Eventually, after God knew how long, she began to calm. The churning in her stomach and the bile in her throat disappeared. Her eyes were wet and sore, but she got her tears under control. Taking deep breaths, she forced herself to stand, to be calm.

It was unacceptable to let the pain of her life overcome her. What Abbie did was meaningful. So she rarely smiled and had no kind of life. So she could never fall in love. How many people were alive, and in love, and smiling because of actions Abbie had taken? She had lost her soul, but how many souls had her sacrifices kept intact?

Eddie was still in danger. She could save him, Michael and Bobby. She needed only to keep focused—eyes on the prize.

Stepping towards the desk, those scraps of paper tucked beneath the screen caught Abbie’s eye, as they had previously. This time, she noticed something she had not before.

And wasn’t that interesting?

From beneath the screen, Abbie pulled one of the paper scraps and folded it into her pocket. One realisation led to another. Recalling something else, Abbie drew her phone from her drawstring bag and wrote a text to Bobby that he would find strange but would probably answer. The cogs were turning. Answers were coming into focus. Were they the correct answers? Would they help achieve her goals? Abbie didn’t know but thought so on both counts.

Leaving the room, she stepped across the corridor and found Eddie on his knees before the coffee table like a man at prayer. Instead of a bible, he held the bottle of whiskey. With shaking hands, he was attempting to fill his glass. He would likely succeed, but he would spill enough to stain the wooden table first. Abbie thought it essential always to be a good house guest. Stepping across the room, she whipped the bottle from Eddie’s hands and watched him sprawl to the floor trying to reclaim it.

“Time to decide,” she said. “What are you going to do about Leona?”

Coming to his knees, he said, “Why must you know?”

“If I have any purpose, then that purpose is to protect the innocent,” said Abbie. “We have all done rotten things in our time. No man nor woman walks through life without making the odd mistake and transgression. I believe most of us stay on the right side of innocence throughout our lives, but on a scale, no human is more innocent than an unborn child. Leona may choose to terminate her pregnancy. Fine. If she doesn’t, I consider that baby as good as born. If you want to kill Leona, you want to kill the baby. If you are determined to destroy the life of this unborn innocent, I will have to stop you,