Hannah ignored him. "I need my big sis. C'mon, girl. Don't let me down."
Abigail couldn't really follow the angry exchange they were now engaged in. Honestly, all she heard was her heart pounding in her ears. She saw images of her past playing through her mind as if they were on a DVD. The old two-story house where the three of them had grown up. Of her and Hannah sneaking up past their bedtime to whisper and giggle about their latest celebrity crushes.
So many happy memories of that time ...
Her thoughts turned to Kurt and Hannah's mother and father, who took her in after Abby's own parents had been slaughtered. They, too, had died years ago from their curse, and there was nothing she wouldn't do for her adoptive siblings.
And you just might be paying the ultimate price.
"Wait..."
Was that the doctor's voice?
The thrumming grew louder as she felt something shatter deep within her body. Arching her back, she screamed as every molecule in her body seemed to catch fire.
"What's happening to her?"
"Get your sister out of here."
Abigail heard Hannah protesting as Kurt jerked her from the room and slammed the door behind them. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. She could no longer see anything, and yet she saw everything. There was no way to describe it. It was as if she had a mirror to the world.
"Breathe," the doctor whispered. "Just breathe. I'm not about to let you die."
That was easier said than done. Pain lacerated her body. It was as if she was burning from the inside out.
Unable to stand it, she screamed until she could stand no more. This was it. In spite of what he said, she was dying. She had to be. Surely no one could withstand this much pain and live. There was no way she'd survive.
In fact, she felt the darkness coming for her. It was swallowing her whole. Piece by piece. Shredding her completely.
She turned her head from side to side, trying to breathe. Something had its hands on her throat, choking her.
Was it the doctor?
She couldn't focus. Couldn't see.
"Stop!" Her cry echoed in her ears.
Then as quickly as it'd come, the pain left her-like a bird that shot skyward for no reason. It was gone.
Her throat was so dry now. She tilted her head to meet the doctor's gaze. Concern etched his brow as he lowered the mask on his face.
"How do you feel?" There was only the smallest bit of his fangs showing as he spoke. Something else flashed. A memory of him that was gone so fast, she couldn't grasp it.
Was it important?
"I need water," she rasped.
"Do you crave anything else?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"What?"
Abigail licked her lips as the memory of her birth parents' deaths seared her. Even all these years later, that memory was perfectly intact, as if it'd happened only yesterday.
Barely four years old and dressed in her red Sesame Street pajamas, she'd hidden under the bed while the man her parents had called friend mercilessly slaughtered them with a shotgun. Those horrendously violent sounds were forever carved in her heart. From where she'd been, she saw the man's black cowboy boots, which caused the floorboards to squeak while he searched her room. Terrified, she'd watched him track blood all over her pink princess rug. She'd held her favorite teddy bear to her mouth and bit him hard to keep from crying out and betraying her location. He'd paused before her dresser, and there in the mirror she'd seen his face so clearly. So perfectly.
And as she heard those heavy footsteps leave her home, she'd sworn one thing.