Even Angels Fall (55 page)

“No you won’t…” He replies, and they stare at each other longingly once again, as the realisation dawns that this is really it. It really is over.

Abbey begins to back away into the middle of the empty road, knowing that she has to eventually turn around and leave Alex behind her for the final time. Neither of them seem willing to break their gaze, but Alex finally relents, smiling with genuine affection as he looks down at the ground and edges back into the doorway of Denny’s, completely unaware that several yards up the street, Marcus Holt is sitting patiently behind the wheel of his car.

He turns the keys in the ignition and as the engine roars to life, he shifts forward in his seat with bitterness and venom in his eyes.

“Right…” He growls, “Let’s get this little fucker where it really hurts…” And without any hesitation what so ever, he slams the car into gear, pulls out of the parking space and floors the accelerator.

There is a loud screeching of tyres followed by a loud metallic thud and Abbey catches the look of sheer horror on Alex’s face before he is suddenly out of sight. All she can see is white, then the buildings and the sky above her. They are spinning, round and round, spiralling wildly out of control. No. It is her. She is the one that is spinning.

She feels limp and weightless as she flies through the air and her world slows down so much it almost collapses into freeze frame before she slams into the cold, hard concrete. Searing pain spreads through her every limb and she can feel a pool of warmth encasing her head and forming around her right hand. She can hear someone frantically calling her name. Is it Alex? She searches for him desperately but her vision is becoming blurred. If only she can see him, then it will be alright. Everything will be alright.

There is screaming and shouting, and so much commotion surrounding her but Abbey can’t feel anything. She is falling, falling into darkness, when Alex suddenly appears above her, shouting her name and gently stroking her face, looking panicked and terrified. She wants to tell him not to worry, that she is OK and that she loves him… but she is slipping further and further away, unable to hold on any longer. She takes one last look into those beautiful eyes – bluer than the bluest sky - before the taste of blood catches in her throat, the numbness pulls her under and everything around her fades to black.

J
anet reaches absentmindedly into the overflowing wash basket, carefully pulling out a single garment at a time before folding it neatly. She drops each item on top of the growing pile of clean laundry and mindlessly continues the cycle while staring distractedly at the wall above Abbey’s bed.

It is early evening and the sun sits low in the sky. Every so often Janet glances over at Abbey who is standing in the window in the corner; staring down at the empty street below and watching the weeping willows sway gracefully in the breeze.

“I just don’t understand…” Janet sighs, quietly, “I don’t understand why you would go there? I mean what was the point? You were doing so well, you’d turned a page, you’d moved on… and then you go to that bar, back to those kids…” She drops the t-shirt she is holding and lifts her hand to her face, quickly composing herself before hastily re-folding it, “They may have been your friends once, Abbey, but you have to leave them behind now. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place, you shouldn’t have been anywhere near that street or that speeding car…” Abbey slowly turns around to face her mum but she doesn’t speak. She simply stares at her with wide, beseeching eyes as Janet continues her tireless rant, “Why did you have to go to that bar with those people? What on earth were you trying to prove? It just doesn’t make any sense to me…” Her voice rises in pitch as she becomes more and more irate but Abbey still doesn’t respond, “You were doing so well darling. Everything you’d come through and everything you’d achieved. God I was so proud of you. I was so proud…” Abbey takes a small step forward and tilts her head to one side, raising her shoulders ever so slightly in an apologetic gesture, but Janet struggles to look at her, unable to contain her sorrow and disappointment as she throws her head back and sighs again deeply.

“Mum…?” Anna stands a few feet away on the landing, watching Janet with fraught concern.

She waits patiently for her to respond, and after a lengthy pause Janet blinks hard as if trying to remember something important. She turns slowly towards Anna and away from the empty window, with a lost and vacant expression on her pale and tear stained face, “Who were you talking to…?”

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Copyright © F L Darbyshire, 2014

The right of F L Darbyshire to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Section 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

The book cover image is copyright to Yan Stav

ISBN 978-1-78148-446-3 in electronic format

ISBN 978-1-78148-733-4 in printed format

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