Abby's Scar Read online

  “Hi, my dazzling girlfriend. You look sensational today,” Abby said.

  “Yeah, thanks. Listen, can you help me with something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Great. Get dressed and follow me.”

  Abby put on her clothes and followed Jordan down the hallway and through the front door, which was propped wide open.

  “What's going on?”

  “You'll see.”

  She led Abby along the house to the garage where a large BMW was parked outside. A familiar figure stood, leaned against the passenger window. It was Romeo. He wore a red skin-tight suit, but still had his familiar bat cape, slicked hair, and fangs, which he bared for Abby on sight.

  “Hi, Romeo.”

  The skinny teenager opened the rear door of his car. Wedged into the back seat was a huge flat panel television that filled the spacious car from top to bottom.

  “There it is. I hope you're satisfied.”

  “I earned it. Abby, would you help Romeo carry this into my bedroom?”

  “'Course.”

  Romeo put a hand up. “You have to keep it upright or it'll break.”

  Abby thought that was odd, but she followed their instructions. It was extremely heavy. After much grunting, they arrived in Jordan's bedroom.

  “Over here. I cleared this space on my dresser. I'll be able to see it from my bed.”

  “Yeah, enjoy it,” said Romeo.

  “I should. Like I said, I frickin' earned it.”

  “What's going on?” asked Abby.

  “Can I tell her?” said Romeo.

  “Eh, sure,” said Jordan.

  Romeo turned to Abby. “We had a bet. She won.”

  “What was the bet?”

  “You were.”

  Abby's heart skipped a beat. “What?”

  “We saw you stalking Jordan like some elementary schoolgirl. She thought she could bed you in a week. I thought you'd be too inexperienced and prude.”

  “And this cheap ass bets his T.V. I bet my car.” Jordan sneered at Romeo. “Because I knew I could do it.” Jordan pointed her finger at Abby. “And then I got you into the classroom sucking my pussy the first day. I was sure I had you. And you had some damned hangup about your modesty. Goddamned country girls. Fuck! But I wasn't about to give up my car for anyone! I got you that far, so Romeo and I decided to extend the bet to see if I could take you all the way, no time limit. So I had to stick it out! And fucking finally last night! Jesus, you were slow!”

  Abby leaned back stunned, staring into nothing. This Goth girl was turning her world black from the inside out.

  “God, she's going to go comatose on me now. Romeo, can you center the T.V., please? Abby, just to be clear, we're over. Got it?”

  Abby's gaze fell to the floor. She thought she should cry, but no tears came, no hate. Confusion? Maybe she was numb.

  “Okay, so you can leave now.”

  Abby closed her eyes. That was something they could still come to agreement on. Lethargically, she lifted one foot and swiveled, then another. Step by step, she gained momentum towards the door, an exit from a world so long her elusive dream, now turned instantly Heaven to Hell.

  Stepping alone into the sunlight, she looked up and squinted at its raw power. She yearned for it to burn her to ashes right there on the concrete. But as insane as it seemed right then, somehow she would have to recover herself. She had a future.

  And then she recalled something: the letter. She'd taken a leap of faith to throw away her relationship with her father for one with Jordan, a relationship that was an illusion. She didn't have her watch, but judging from the position of the sun, it was late morning. The mail would be arriving soon. Her father might go out to pick it up right away. He often did. Abby had to get that letter!

  She started in motion, running down the driveway. She launched herself into her truck, turned on the engine, and peeled out.

   A Mad Scramble 

  Abby flew like a speed racer through the streets, desperate to intercept her letter to her father. She kept an eye out for police cars, but truth be told, it was her second priority. Screeching tires and ignored stop signs were the evidence. Her knuckles whitened as she squealed around every corner, sweating bullets at the thought of her dad opening the fateful letter.

  She turned the corner on to her street just in time to see her father take the mail from the mail box and stroll back to the house. Too late! The letter was already in his hands!

  Abby parked and ran up to the front window. She watched in hopeless anguish as he sat down at on the couch and set the unopened mail on the coffee table. He flipped through several envelopes and opened one. A sense of panic gripped her chest and she held her breath. He focused on the letter and ran his fingers through his hair. Abby waited for his reaction. He set the letter aside. Not the one.

  He flipped through several more until he stopped again. He opened the next one. Quickly he scowled at it. Abby's stomach turned. She groaned. But looking back, she saw him flip the paper so that she could see it. It was a form print, some kind of bill. He was angry about the amount. He gathered the bill in its return envelope and set it aside.

  Continuing, he made his way to the bottom of the pile and the full sized envelope at the bottom, Abby's envelope. She cringed. This was it. She turned away and bit her lip. This was the moment of truth, the coming out that would change her life forever. How could she have been so stupid, so reckless? To think that coming out was more important than her dad! It was ludicrous, a fantasy whipped up by Jordan for her own political purposes! There was nothing in this world more important to her than her dad, and she knew that now. If only she could have a second chance!

  But it was over. There was nothing to do but take the beating head on.

  Abby wiped her brow, stood up, and, legs shaking, and managed to stagger into the house. She stood just inside the door and waited. He had set the letter in his lap, and had both hands to his temple.

  “Dear God,” he mumbled.

  Salty rivers ran down Abby's cheeks as her eyes searched the ceiling, the walls, looking anywhere but at the one person who truly loved her, the one person whose heart she was breaking so solidly and surely in two at that very moment. She pulled a shuddered breath and wondered what kind of humble apology could possibly do.

  “I can't believe it,” her dad whispered. He put his hand on his hand and shook in sombre disbelief. “I can't believe it.”

  Believe it, Dad, thought Abby. Teardrops dripped from her chin.

  Her dad slowly rose to his feet, staring at the letter in his hands. He ever so slowly turned to face Abby and looked up to meet her gaze, the stoic gleam ever present in his eye piercing her straight through her heart like a sword of vengeance.

  Then, as she could barely look at him, his hands rose, and his face morphed into a euphoric grin. He threw the letter over his head and began to dance his way around the couch.

  “Yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir!”

  Abby blinked. She wiped her tears. When her father got within a few feet, he turned, raised his hands again and said, “You know what that letter was? Your brother Brick is going to be awarded the Distinguished Service Cross Medal! He saved his platoon and captured nine enemy combatants last month! Hot-diggity!” He danced a few more circles. “I can't believe he didn't tell us about that! Just like him to play it down!” He began to dance again, then stopped. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit peaked.”

  Abby sniffed. “No, I'm fine.” She looked around the room, searching for her missing letter.

  “Isn't that great?”

  “Yeah, dad. That's terrific.” Abby wiped the sweat from her brow. “You know, I do feel a bit wiped out. Maybe I'll just go lie down.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  “What?” said Abby, wiping the moisture from her face and looking away.

  “Hey, there, trooper. You know I'm proud of you too, right?”

  Abby felt her da
d pull her into a tight hug. Her agony seemed to drain away. This kind of affection was so rare from him. She threw her arms around his shoulders and held on tight as she could.

  “You are, Dad?”

  “Of course, Abby. You don't have to go on some top secret mission or win some metal to make me proud. You make me proud just the way you are.”

  “I do?” She heaved a deep sigh. But you don't know me! She cried anew and held tighter than ever. She fought to hold in the words. I'm a lesbian! But fear kept them at bay. She squeezed with all her might, and fresh tears flowed from her eyes held tightly shut.

  “Hey, kid, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Dad. I had a rough day. I'm okay now though.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, kid.”

   Lessons Learned 

  Abby sat in Sunny Side Up, hands wrapped around a warm coffee as Cindy slid into the booth across from her.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “You should thank me after last time.” Cindy smirked. “After all we've been through!”

  Abby peered at her. “I deserve that. Look, Cindy, you were totally right. I should have listened.” She paused, opened her hands, and looked sideways in discomfort. “I guess what I have to say is that love is blind. Jordan was my first, and I didn't know what I was doing. I was a fool to believe in her.”

  Cindy sighed. “Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. We're all there at one point or the other, some of us more than once. I'm just glad nothing terrible happened.”

  “Yeah.” Abby nodded. “I got really lucky. I wrote the letter up like I said I was going to. I put it in the mailbox, but somehow my dad didn't get it. I'm still not quite sure how that happened.”

  Cindy pulled an envelope from her purse and laid it on the table. Its label consisted of one word: Dad.

  “You.”

  Cindy nodded.

  “But you were furious with me.”

  “False friends don't do right by you even under the best of circumstances unless it's in their own best interest. On the other hand, true friend don't stop being friends just because the going gets rough. I couldn't let you destroy your relationship with your dad because of Jordan. I took the letter out of the mailbox. I hope you're not mad.”

  “In a way maybe I should be, but the truth is that you really saved my bacon.” She laughed. “You could have warned me. I just about birthed a calf right there on the porch watching him open that last envelope though.”

  Cindy cracked up, then Abby.

  After a minute the laughter subsided.

  “I'm sorry about Jordan. I know she was important to you.”

  “I'll get over her.”

  “It's not a total loss, though, Abby.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you still have me.”

  Abby laughed again. “And I better watch my step!”

  Cindy chuckled, but quickly sobered. “But more importantly, you know who you are. You've learned something very important about yourself. You couldn't never be happy if you didn't find that out.”

  Abby shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “I guess so,” chided Cindy. “I know so. And I have a good feeling. Now that you know you are, your future is going to shine!”

  ~The End~

  If you have enjoyed ABBY’S SCAR please go back and leave a review so that others may enjoy what you may have as well. Please watch for Q.C. Masters next novel from Shadoe Publishing: A Girl Called Shine. We have Chapter 1 here for your enjoyment.

   Shine 

  Shine lay on her stomach on her bed, shoes off, absorbed in her fashion magazine. She gathered the solitary strawberry highlight in her platinum blond hair from her eyes and flipped it over her shoulder, then thumbed to the next page.

  The walls of her room were a shrine of self-expression.

  Erotic photographic art covered them with feminine shapes and lesbians engaged. Her parents had grudgingly tolerated black and whites such as Igor Vasiliadis' “110804-0001”, a depiction of a lesbian kiss, “110909-0002” with two interlocking female forms, Helmut Newton's “Nude with Air Mattress”, the iconic “Naked and Dressed”, and even “Crocodile Eating Ballerina”. But when Shine put up Didier Carré's "Magella - Piercing" directly across from her bed, her mother put her foot down and the poster came down with it.

  A few representations from the music world, such as the Butchies, Beth Ditto and the cover and back to She Wants Revenge's debut album, were present. There was also the angry poster that read, “Free Pussy Riot!”

  Where most women hide their sex toys in a bottom drawer by the bed, Shine had every one of hers proudly out on display, each neatly posed, those standing up that could do so. She had on hand a selection of every type: dildos, vibrators, strap-ons, double-ended dildos and more creative tools that would have the average layman scratching his or her head. Her parents cut off her allowance when the toys started appearing, but it did no good. A new one showed up every month or so. She had been forced to add a second table to expand the space.

  Her parents had simply resigned themselves to the fact that Shine's bedroom was simply not PG. Shine's ten year old brother, Tate, was only allowed to deliver messages, but not to enter.

  Friends and guests (other than Shine's) were discreetly kept away from her room, assisted by the signs on her door that read things like “Do Not Enter!”, “Toxic Dump”, and “Beware of Man Eating Dog”. The word “Man” was circled three times.

  Shine flipped another page of her magazine.

  “Shine!”

  She jumped and turned toward her bedroom door.

  “Tate, you tool! Why can't you knock?”

  He leaned in her doorway and stuck his tongue at her. “Leslie is downstairs.”

  “Well, whatever. Send her up!”

  Tate closed the door. Shine put her magazine on a night table and scooted up to her pillow, propping herself up against her headboard.

  Her mother poked her head in, then grunted and cupped a hand over her face to obscure the graphic images. She must have been doing chores upstairs to arrive so quickly. “Vanessa, you should go down and greet your guests. It's very impolite to just sit up here and wait. You're not royalty, you know.”

  “Mom! Hello?! I just yelled at Tate about knocking!”

  Her mother grunted a second time and closed the door.

  A moment later Shine heard footsteps on the stairs. The door opened and Leslie entered.

  “Hey.” At five-foot-ten tall beauty stood a full half foot taller than Shine. Sandy blond hair draped over the shoulders of her black tank. Below she sported black nylon shorts that reflected the light off her curves as she moved into the room and shut the door behind her, then locked it. Shine focused on the shiny, paper thin shorts covering Leslie's behind and licked her lips. Leslie knew Shine's temptations intimately.

  Only hinting at looking behind her, Leslie placed her hands on high on her ass and slid them down sensually over her glossy cheeks.

  Shine perked. Shaking her head, “Mmmmm, baby, you're so fly.”

  Leslie bent over a bit, extending her tush in Shine's direction, and looked behind her at Shine with a smile. “You likes? I got them today... just for you.” She spun on the ball of her foot with all the confidence of a runway model and placed one extremely long, sultry leg directly in front of the other until she was close enough to lean over the bed. She pointed at Shine while laying her most intensely pouty smile on her.

  “I love your cheerleader moves,” Shine said, reclining and stretching her arms above her head. “Dance for me.”

  Leslie stopped and pouted for real. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, baby. I wanna see you move.”

  Leslie swiveled, put a hand on her hip and did her walk to the far side of the room. She flipped through several CDs until she found one she liked. With a click she put it in.

  “If I dance for you, then I want to see it.”

  “Oka
y.” In one fluid motion, Shine rolled back onto her back and peeled off her stretch shorts and panties. Then she lay flat on her back, legs apart just to the point of labia separation. Leslie watched from the far wall, rubbing her chin unconsciously.

  Leslie turned away as the Veronicas blared from the box. She swung her hips back and forth, and then turned to face Shine, throwing one fist high in the air. With a face fit for street fighting, she lifted one knee, then the other and dropped to the carpet, swinging her leg completely around her. She leapt to her feet again, simultaneously swinging one arm in the air while placing her other on her rotating hips.

  Watching her lover, this pinnacle of female sexuality, Shine's body came alive. Keeping her promise, she resisted full on masturbation, but slipped her fingers between her legs to flank her lips on either side.

  Leslie spun around and faced Shine again, but threw her head to the side, eyes closed. She leaned back and thrust one hand deep between her legs, pulling it slowly up to her belly, then lifting the her tank until her breasts peeked from under. One leg began to thump to the rhythm, and she focused in on Shine's eyes, squinting a desirous frown and reaching for her dramatically.

  Leslie's face suddenly changed to fascination as her eyes dropped to Shine's slit. It must be out, thought Shine. Her left index finger wandered center and found her engorged clitoris, as broad as a dime on its tip, newly protruding from her labia. Teasing both Leslie and herself, she flipped it up and down a few times.

  Leslie shook her head to regain her focus. She spun away from Shine and bent over, then whipped her whole torso in a huge circle, up, around and down. She stepped to the side, pointing one foot in front. She was preparing for her next move, but lost concentration again. She was staring from the side between Shine's thighs.

  Resetting again, she dropped her arms, switched to the other side, but her attention failed a third time.

  “Fuck, that's hot. I can't concentrate. It's like an eye following me around, watching.” She took position again, jumped a hop, but mis-stepped. “Jesus, you're making me wet,” she panted, grasping her mound, fingers beyond. “Is that good enough?”