Night.

had to write this for english starting with the first sentence. this was my second attempt, after my first turned into something too private for teachers to read. =)

 

“Sometimes at night a street seems longer, and things not noticed during the day are much more apparent. Graffiti, rubbish, road kill. It all suddenly jumps out at us, scaring us as it reminds us of the dark side of humanity. “Respectable people stay inside with their families and wine; only unpleasant people venture out at night for anything short of an emergency.” It’s a mantra drilled deep in everyone’s minds, from unsteady toddlers to wrinkled grandparents. People who stay out at night are unsafe, drug addicts, criminals. And yet if you met the same people in the street at noon, of course they’re decent, hardworking people who don’t deserve the troubles they’ve gone through.“

Abigail contemplated this as she ran through the back streets of London before eventually deciding that even if it were noon, she’d still be pursued by the police.  She’d have to remember to tell her father that before he published it in his psychology book. Then again, most people who bought psychology books hadn’t just broken into the home of a widely respected lawyer and trashed the place as thoroughly as she had. She’d broken vases, mirrors, tables and glasses; anything that was breakable that she could find in the short time before she was discovered. She’d left a note in the centre of a pile of smashed glass and crystal with the initials “C. L. T.” If he realized what the initials stood for, her and her father would probably either be bumped off quietly or arrested. But they’d both understood the risks when they undertook their self-appointed mission, and they couldn’t stop now.

Turning a corner into an alley, Abigail sprinted behind a convenient dumpster and ducked down, her dark hair flying wildly. Barely a second later she heard sirens pass and was blinded by car headlights. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, she waited another ten minutes before abandoning the dumpster and walking onto the footpath, trying to look like a normal person out for a late night walk. It was harder then she’d thought it would be; every person she passed could be a disguised policeman, every street corner an ambush.

Finally reaching her home, she pulled her key out of her sock and let herself in, locking the door behind her. Leaning back against the door, she took in a deep, shuddering breath that almost became a sob before she regained control of herself. Shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts, Abigail heard snores and wandered slowly into the lounge room, where she discovered her father asleep in front of the TV. Smiling slightly, she muted the TV and left him to sleep.

Climbing the staircase to her bedroom, she worried that she’d been followed home. She hadn’t seen anyone, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been there. She shook her head again, this time at herself. Even if she had been followed, it was too late to worry now. It was best just to have a shower and go to bed, so that if someone did happen to visit, her and her father would seem completely innocent.

She was opening her bedroom door when Abigail heard a loud knock on the front door. She froze. She knew it would be him. Gerard Keehl. The lawyer whose home she’d wrecked less then an hour ago. He’d arrest her and her father, make up lies again, send them to jail for decades. Her father couldn’t handle that with his health and age, and having another child put in prison on false charges would ruin him. He’d survive maybe one year, two at best—

There was the click! of the intercom, and a stage whisper, “Abby, it’s me, Jeevas. Let me in!”

Almost collapsing with relief, Abigail ran unsteadily back downstairs and opened the door, practically falling into the supporting embrace of her friend. “Jeevas, thank God it’s you. I thought for sure it’d be Keehl, after tonight, and I didn’t know what I’d do...” Her voice faded out.

“Nah, just boring old me. How’s Johnny? He managed the strain of sitting at home, watching TV while his daughter’s out risking her life?” Jeevas said, intentionally loud, hoping that Johnny, Abigail’s father, would hear him.

“Shh! He’s asleep. And stop being so horrible. You know how bad his health is after what Keehl did to Charlie. He’s so fragile,” Abigail responded, “Even tonight can’t have been good for him.”

“Yeah, I know. But still…anyway, before you throw me out, how’d it go? Police see you?”

Abigail walked into the kitchen, with Jeevas trailing behind. Sitting on the bar stool, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and started eating it mechanically. “It went exactly as planned, actually. The key was where you said it would be, I smashed all the breakable objects I could find and left the note. Then I escaped when they woke up, and the police didn’t even get a glimpse of my face. Couldn’t have gone better.”

Jeevas looked at her probingly. “Except…?”

“Except nothing. And stop looking at me like that.” Abigail hated how Jeevas always seemed to know what she was thinking; they’d known each other too long.

“Like what?” he replied, pretending to have no idea. They’d gone through this routine many times before, and nothing ever changed.

“Like I’m hiding something! I’m not, you know me better then that! What did you think happened, Keehl found me throwing his $3000 vase against the wall and I proposed to him?! I’m 19, Jeevas, not stupid. Just because you’re older then me doesn’t make you smarter.” Abigail kicked herself mentally. He’d gotten to her again, easily.

“Abby, you know I don’t think that. I’m just worried about you. I mean, your father isn’t exactly the most caring of people, and you’re running around with the police chasing after you…I mean, look what happened to Cha--“

“I know what happened to him! Look, Jeevas, either you stop trying to get me to tell you a nonexistent secret or you leave now. I don’t want to fight with you, I’ve known you too long for that.” Abigail threw the apple core at the bin in the corner.

“Ok, ok, sorry Abby. Look, I’ve got to go now anyway. But I want you to think about who you’d rather listen to – your father, who more often then not is drunk or getting pretty close to it, or your friend who you’ve know for most of your life and is only trying to help you. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Jeevas stated as he exited the kitchen, leaving Abigail seething in anger, not just at him, but at herself.