Chapter 2 MEETING HIM

CHAPTER TWO.

Abby's heart skipped a beat as Frank Nesmith approached. The closer he got, the more she became aware of his captivating presence. She had initially failed to notice his striking features on the plane, but now they were impossible to ignore.

From a distance, Abby could identify his unique walking style. His long legs seemed to stumble slightly with each step, giving him a wrestler-like appearance. She found it oddly charming. As he drew nearer, she couldn't help but admire the contrast between his dark, glowing hair and his fair complexion. It only added to his charm and made him look even more attractive in her eyes.

Abby's gaze shifted from his hair to his physique, and she couldn't help but appreciate the evident effort he had put into achieving such a well-built body. His muscles hinted at countless hours of hard work and dedication to the gym. The sight of his tattoos, partially revealed by his short-sleeved shirt, further excited her.

Finally, when Frank stood before her, Abby found herself embraced by his hazel brown eyes. They were warm and inviting, drawing her in with their intensity. His well-defined jawline added a touch of ruggedness to his overall appearance, complementing his striking features perfectly. At that moment, she couldn't help but think that perhaps Frank was an epitome of human creation or so she thought, carefully crafted to be both strong and attractive.

Amara's voice broke Abby's trance as she greeted Frank with a warm embrace. "Hey, Frank," she called out, her excitement was obvious. Abby watched as Amara hugged Frank tightly, their close bond evident.

Frank returned the hug warmly, his brotherly affection was obvious as well. "How was the burial, bro?" Travis asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Hope you're doing okay."

"I'm good, the burial was okay, I guess," Frank replied with a sigh. As his gaze met Abby's, she felt a sense of discomfort, his questioning stare making her uneasy.

"What?" Abby retorted, her voice laced with defensiveness.

"I think I know you," Frank said aloud, his smile looking like that of a two-year-old who had just spotted their favorite toy. Abby shook her head adamantly, denying any knowledge of him.

Frank continued to observe Abby from head to toe, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. Abby's anger flared up. "What are you smiling at?" she yelled, her voice filled with anger and frustration. She had experienced men's seducive stares in the past, and she despised being objectified.

Growing up in Alaska, particularly in her father's house, Abby had learned the hard way that such leering gazes often signaled sexual intent. She had fallen victim to it before, but she had also learned how to defend herself.

"Don't worry, Abby, he isn't like that," Amara chimed in, trying to reassure her friend. Abby nodded silently, her guard still up. "I think we should get going," Travis suggested, breaking the tense silence.

The group started walking, Amara and Travis leading the way, while Abby and Frank trailed behind. Abby couldn't help but steal glances at Frank from the corner of her eye. There was an undeniable curiosity brewing within her, despite her reservations.

Mick paced restlessly around his dimly lit living room, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his grizzled mustache. Scars criss crossed his weathered face, a mark to show the countless fights he had endured. The eye mask he wore, covering one of his eyes, gave him the appearance of a rugged pirate, a mark due to a fight with his former best friend.

"So you haven't seen Abigail since?" Mick's raspy voice sounded athroughout the room, sending a shiver down Michelle's spine. At only eight years old, Michelle was Mick's youngest daughter, soon to turn nine on the same day as Abby.

"N-no, father. She left without a word," Michelle stuttered, her voice trembling with fear. She dared not meet her father's piercing gaze and instead focused her gaze on his bare, scarred chest. Each scar told a story of his rugged life, a life that had left its mark on him both physically and emotionally.

Michelle, his youngest daughter, cowered in the corner of the room, her eyes wide with fear. She had seen this side of her father before, the coldness that consumed him, removing eny form of sympathy or love. She knew better than to say anything that might further provoke his wrath.

Mick's face was in a huge frown as he remembered the events surrounding Abby's departure. To him, she was nothing more than a witch who had escaped with his money, leaving behind a mere text message as her final act of departure. The thought of her well-being never crossed his mind.

Grenada, his current wife, approached him with a mischievous smile, not at all concerned about Abby's fate. As she ran her fingers along Mick's scarred chest, she loved the power and control she got from marrying Mick. Their relationship was built on deceit and hunger for wealth. making them a perfect match in their wicked pursuits.

Grenada and Mick had tied the knot nine years after Abby's mother had fled their lives. It was during Grenada's pregnancy with Michelle that they had decided to formalize their union. Grenada, known for her gambling and theft, had found peace in Mick's twisted world.

Despite the material comfort that came with their marriage, Grenada suffered in silence from the brutal hands of Mick's domestic violence. Her hunger for wealth and power had blinded her, that she did think too much about the domestic violence, she always saw reasons for it.

"How?" Mick scoffed, his voice laced with frustration, as he lit a cigarette and took a drag. The smoke filled the air, adding to the atmosphere of darkness that surrounded them. "She don't even know her whereabouts, Grenada."

Grenada's smile widened as she leaned in closer, her eyes glimmering with an mischief. "Oh, Mick, my love," she said, her voice dripping with calculated mischief. "We have our ways. Trust me, Michelle here will give us Abby's number, right Michelle"

"Mum, that was supposed to be a secret between Abby and me. I told you not to tell," Michelle pleaded softly, her voice laced with fear. She did her best to avoid Mick's deadly stare, aware of the consequences that could follow.

Mick's face twisted into a scowl as Michelle's words sank in. Anger filled him, after realizing that Secrets were kept in his household.

"Take her to the torture room, torture her till she starts talking" Mick said in a loud voice that filled the room. His boys, Tom and Freddy came immediately and raised Michelle from the ground effortlessly despite the pleads of Michelle.

Grenada's eyes widened in realization of the mistake she had made. She regretted letting her own curiosity get the better of her. Seeing her daughter's distress tore at her heart, and she desperately sought to rectify the situation.

"Wait!" Grenada yelled in frustration, her voice filled with urgency. "Mick, we don't need violence to get the answers we seek. Let's find another way".

Mick's gaze turned toward Grenada, his eyes flashing with anger written all over his face. "Stay out of this, Grenada," Mick said, his voice carrying a threatening tone. "If you don't want to be a part of the torturing process, then keep quiet." The weight of his words hung heavily in the room, leaving Grenada feeling both powerless and saddened by the situation.

Unwilling to risk Mick's wrath any further, Grenada fell silent, a mixture of concern and guilt washing over her. She hated herself for not being able to protect her daughter. She just wanted Abby dead.

Without another word, Mick issued his command to his trusted associates, Tom and Freddy, to take Michelle away.

They lifted Michelle once again, their grip firm and Painful, and started moving towards the torture room in the house

"Please Father, I don't want to be tortured" Michelle yelled with fear as she was carried over Freddy's shoulder