Abby The next day passes by in a blur. I can’t bear to tell my friends about the call from the health department; not yet, at least. Not until I know for certain. My body feels heavy as I roll out of bed and make my way to the kitchen to make some coffee. It’s already eleven in the morning,
“There’s nothing to fess up to,” I hiss through my teeth, standing. “This is all bullshit!” Without thinking, I grab a nearby pillow and hurl it across the room in a fit of rage. The force of the impact knocks a fragile vase off a side table. It shatters into a thousand pieces on the floor.
Abby I approach the door cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest. The events of the past few days have left me on edge, and every unexpected sound or visitor sends a jolt of anxiety through me. I peer through the peephole, and my eyes widen in surprise when I see Officer Martinez standing on t
Karl I watch the screen of my phone go dark as Abby abruptly hangs up. My worry for her is only intensifying as time goes on, but I know I can’t rush to the city right now. I have a meeting scheduled to hire my election manager in ten minutes, and as much as I want to be by Abby’s side, I ha
Abby After letting Officer Martinez out the back door, the loneliness and fear begins to set in again. Even though there’s a police car keeping watch, I can’t help but feel on edge. The front of my house is a media frenzy, and I feel like a target in more ways than one. Finding myself unable to
I spend the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, trying to create some semblance of normalcy after everything. I try to occupy myself with reading, but I can’t focus on the words on the page. I try following a workout video, but I feel too tired. And I try to cook, but my hands shake as I tr
No matter how hard I try, I just can’t sleep. Between the noise of the reporters outside, the curious onlookers, the flash of the cameras and my own anxieties, I feel like I’m trapped in a state of exhaustion with no way out. I’ve tried tossing and turning. I’ve tried covering my head with my pill
“Abby, that’s not healthy,” Karl chides, although his voice holds no real heat. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I lie, just wanting to change the subject. “Tell me about the interviews. Did you hire someone?” Karl’s voice brightens a bit as he responds. “Yes, actually. Her name is Sarah, and she see