shadow of the past

The soft hum of the computer was the only sound that filled the dimly lit room. Abigail's fingers danced across the keyboard, her eyes locked on the code she was crafting. It was late, far past midnight, but sleep had long since eluded her. The work was an escape, a way to drown out the harsh reality of her life—a life overshadowed by pain, guilt, and unrelenting blame.

A faint creak in the hallway made her stiffen. She quickly saved her work and closed the laptop, shoving it under her bed as the door to her room swung open. The silhouette of her father loomed in the doorway, casting a menacing shadow across the room.

"Still awake?" his voice was rough, thick with the lingering effects of alcohol.

Abigail swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "I was just finishing some work."

He stepped closer, the smell of whiskey and stale cigarettes clinging to him like a second skin. "You think working late will bring her back? Huh? You think it'll erase what you did?"

"No, Dad—" she started, but he cut her off with a sneer.

"You killed her, Abigail. You took your mother from me," he spat, his voice rising with each word. "You deserve every bit of misery this world can give you."

She flinched as the words struck her like physical blows. She had heard them so many times, but they never hurt any less. The pain was a constant companion, one she had grown accustomed to but could never fully accept.

He turned and staggered out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Abigail didn't move until she heard his bedroom door slam shut. Only then did she allow herself to breathe, her body trembling as she pulled her laptop back out.

Her mother's death had always been a source of anguish for her father, and he had never let her forget it. The accident had been just that—an accident. But in his eyes, it was her fault, and nothing could change that.

The only solace she found was in her work. As a software engineer, she had a knack for creating order out of chaos, for building something functional and beautiful out of nothing. But even that small comfort was often stolen from her. Her sister, Lily, was quick to take credit for Abigail's achievements, eager to bask in the praise while Abigail remained in the shadows, unseen and unheard.

Abigail's foster mother was no better. Cold and indifferent, she turned a blind eye to the abuse, choosing instead to focus on Lily, the "perfect" daughter. Abigail had learned long ago that there was no point in seeking her help.

But even in the darkest moments, a part of Abigail yearned for something more—a life beyond the pain, beyond the constant reminders of her mother's death. She dreamed of escaping, of finding a place where she could be herself, free from the ghosts of the past.

The sound of a notification ping brought her back to the present. It was an email from her boss, congratulating her on the successful completion of a critical project. Abigail felt a fleeting moment of pride, but it was quickly extinguished by the knowledge that Lily would receive all the credit, as she always did.

Sighing, she closed the laptop again and lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wondered if things would ever change, if she would ever be free of the weight that bore down on her every day.

Little did she know, her life was about to take a drastic turn—one that would lead her down a path of pain, betrayal, and ultimately, redemption.

But for now, all she could do was wait. Wait for the inevitable storm that always seemed to follow the calm.

* * *

The next morning, Abigail awoke to the sound of raised voices. She hurriedly got dressed and made her way downstairs, her heart sinking as she heard her father's angry tone.

"You think she's worth that much? She's nothing but a burden!"

"She'll do as I say," her father barked back. "You stay out of this."

As Abigail reached the bottom of the stairs, she froze. Standing in the doorway was a tall, imposing man she had never seen before. His suit was immaculate, his dark hair slicked back, and his expression unreadable.

"Abigail, get in here!" her father shouted.

She hesitated, but there was no point in resisting. She stepped into the room, her eyes locking with the stranger's for a brief moment before she looked away.

"This is Abigail," her father said, his voice dripping with disdain. "She'll be going with you."

Abigail's heart pounded in her chest as she tried to process what was happening. Going with him? What did he mean?

The man nodded once, his gaze sweeping over her appraisingly. "I'll take care of everything from here."

Before she could protest, her father grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the man. "She's yours now. Do whatever you want with her."

Fear gripped her as she stumbled forward, the stranger catching her before she could fall. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with panic, but his expression remained cold and detached.

"You'll be coming with me," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You don't have a choice."

Abigail opened her mouth to protest, to beg her father to reconsider, but the words wouldn't come. She was paralyzed by fear, her mind racing as she tried to understand what was happening.

Without another word, the man led her out of the house and into a waiting car. As the door closed behind her, Abigail felt a sense of finality, as if her life had just been sealed off from everything she had ever known.

As the car pulled away, she couldn't help but wonder if this was the escape she had always dreamed of—or if she was simply trading one nightmare for another.