Abby and Violet (Yuri Light Novel)

I should have known better. It’s been years and I still would fall into the trap of believing she’d understand. That she’d give me support.

“Are you out of your mind, Abbigail Gardener!? Of all the idiotic things you could waste our time, you chose that!?” my mum shouted the moment I spoke my wish.

Despite the heating, the living room suddenly felt like a freezer. All of my previous hopes were now wrecked on the floor. Even so, I still wanted to fight.

“Shut up, missy! I haven’t finished yet,” she cut me right when I opened up my mouth to protest her calling my wish idiotic. “Do you think I’ll let you throw away all the hard work, all the effort I put into raising you?”

“You’ve never asked me if that was anything I wanted! You always expected me to play along like a good girl!”

“How dare you talk back?! Is this because of that girl’s influence?”

“Her name is Violet, mum! Violet Evergreen! And no! She did nothing wrong, so don’t you dare bring her into this discussion!”

“Why, you! I ought to—”

Mum leaned over the coffee table to slap me, making me flinch, but she never delivered her strike because my dad suddenly punched the table surface. “That’s enough, Elisa!” my dad shouted.

Silence had been returned to the space we were in, everyone waiting for somebody else to make or say the first move or word.

Mum was the one who broke the stalemate, by standing straight over him.

“Excuse me!?”

Dad also stood up, looming over her, them facing eye to eye.

“You heard me! I’m sick and tired of this crap! I watched in silence as you belittled and terrorized our daughters, treating them like you would incompetent employees!”

“I do no such thing!”

“Oh, really!? If that’s the case, when was it the last time you said something nice to any of the two, huh? Can you even remember?”

“I’m their mother!” she said, red with anger.

“Let me tell you, you suck at that!”

“Oh!? Are you now telling me you are a better parent than me!? Is that it!?”

“It’s because I’ve been a terrible father that I’m digging my heels now! Enough is enough!”

I was petrified in my seat while my parents stared at each other with pure spite. It felt like the time had stopped, but the clicking I could hear from the grandpa clock told me it was just ticking away slowly.

“I suppose you are going to tell me next you want the divorce,” mum said bitterly.

I choked up after hearing those words and dad looked at me, his face grievous with regret. It got even worse when he saw my tears, which felt like acid as they burned my face as they streamed down my cheeks.

“Yes,” he said as he faced back mum. “I think that would be for the best of us all.”

Mum glared at him briefly, before storming away, telling him he’d be hearing from their lawyer. He didn’t pay attention to her threats and instead sat by me as he asked if I was ok.

My crying became even worse, my breathing—which I came to realize, had stopped in the middle of the argument—resumed in an almost asthmatic way. I tried to form words, but I was only able to choke on. Dad was now looking at me with a mix of worry and terror as he held my shoulders and tried to calm me down with words I could barely hear over the ringing in my ears.

“M-m-my…ult…m-m-m… f-f-fa…”

“No, sweety! No! It’s not your fault. It’s ours,” said dad as he was now also crying. “I’m sorry Abby. I’m so sorry! It’s your mother’s and mine. I’m so sorry.”

◊◊◊

There was still no sign of her. No answer to my messages, no phone calls, nothing. In fact, even more worrisome, when I called her, it always said the owner couldn’t be reached.

It was the hundredth time I checked it today, but still nothing.

“Have I done something wrong?” and “did something happen to her?” were thoughts which assaulted me every waking hour. Sometimes, something even worse came to mind.

Tomorrow would be New Year, and after that, it’d only be a couple of days before classes resumed, but having to wait that long to know what became of her was pure torture, and there were no guarantees she’d appear at school either.

Two weeks! It had been two weeks since last time I’ve heard or seen her. Last time we were together, we had a great time and Abby never mentioned going away for a family vacation, and if she were, I’m sure she’d have told me something, even if only with a short text. That’s what I told dad after he asked me when our last interaction was and how it went.

None of this made sense and I was terrified for her.

“Maybe she is with other relatives? You said it yourself, she didn’t tell you much about her family.”

I didn’t answer. I just went back into my mind. There was a way I could discover what was going on. That was going to Abby’s place. I had struggled with that idea, always coming up with excuses not to go. Either because I could bother her, come face to face with her mother and make things worse for Abby, all of it just excuses so I didn’t have to admit I was scared of Abby telling me to go away or discover something really bad had happened.

Only, this time, I was tired of making excuses.

I got dressed and stormed off my house, my resolve steeled as I got into the bus that would take close to school and where Abby lived.

I never felt so restless in my life. Or perhaps I had, but not feeling this way. It was a fire burning in me instead of fear and anxiety. I don’t think I ever had this kind of fire in my spirit before. I’d never ever had thought I would because of someone too. That girl really messed up with my being, didn’t she?

I got out of the bus and walked the short distance towards my destination. Turning around the corner, the school came into sight, and so did her place. That was when I felt my spirit falter a bit as I started to second guess my actions.

I could just be being brash, right? After all, it would only be three more days until school resumed and I’d get to see her. And if she didn’t appear, then I could walk across the street and knock on her door during recess. Why did I have to rush it so much?

No! Stop! Abby is your best friend! She might need you!

The finger had been hovering the doorbell for a while, but after reigniting my fire with my mental peptalk, I finally pressed it, a buzz being heard coming from inside.

“Phew!”

There was no turning back now. Come storm or good weather, I now had to face whatever came out of this situation.

The door opened and my heart jumped.

“Oh, it’s you,” her mother growled. “Came to gloat, have you?”

That question confused me deeply, even more so with how she looked. Still cruel looking, but there was an air of exhaustion about her too.

“G-good morning. Is… is Abby home?”

“You little bitch” she spoke, barely moving her mouth, her expression so bitter, I shriveled under it. “You really have no shame.”

“W-what? No, I just—Blargh!”

I bit my tongue as she slapped me across the face with such force, my glasses flew out of my face as I felt to the floor.

“Just get out of my face!” the woman shrieked as she shut the door.

Trembling, I picked up my glasses and tried to get up, but my legs gave out. I noticed there was some other fluid burning against my cold face that weren’t the tears I was crying not because of the pain, or the cracks in the lenses, but because I was terrified about Abby. Just what had happened to her?

I touched my mouth and when I looked, there was blood. Lots of blood. It was all coming from my lip in a constant stream, drops falling on my clothes and lap.

I pressed a tissue paper to try and stop the bleeding and called dad to ask him to come pick me up at the bus station. I was too shaken up to make the trip alone with a steady footing. Walking to the bus station was plenty of a challenge already.

“Oh my god! What happened?” my father demanded to know as soon as he saw me.

I explained the best I could. Now that I was slightly calmer from being with him, I noticed the taste of metal in my mouth and also that my speech was coming out slurred.

He made a face I had never seen him make. It was pure, unadulterated anger. I saw his fists tightening.

“Can you walk?” he asked in a low tone.

“I-I think so.”

He offered me a hand that I gladly took, and since I’d be clinging to him, I took out my broken glasses to attract less attention from the people walking in the streets.

I didn’t ask him were we were going, trusting he had some sort of plan. I thought he’d be taking us to the police station, but at the turn which would take us there he kept going on a different direction. When I saw the building where his job was, then it all made sense to me.

“Mr. Gardener?” he asked to the person at the front desk.

He was out, but the lady told him she’d give him a call to see if he could come and meet up.

“Thanks Joanne. Tell him it’s about his wife hitting my daughter.”

“What!?” the lady said, looking at me. “My god, she completely lost it now! To hit—Ah! Mr. gardener? I’m sorry, but there has been an emergency. Stan’s here with his daughter and needs to talk with you. Mrs. Gardener apparently hit her. Yes, I’ll lead them to your office.”

I never thought I’d see inside dad’s workplace in such a situation. Rows and rows of desks with people working at their computers, looking up and staring as we walked by. I was still holding a bloodied tissue against my lip, having run out of them some time ago. Luckily for me, Joanne was kind enough to give me a full packet in case I needed it when she came with a cup of coffee for my dad.

Mr. Gardener’s office was probably shared with his wife, there being two desks at opposite sides of the room. One side was mirrored on the other, and there wasn’t much to talk about it with how normal it looked.

The same couldn’t be said about one of the owners.

He looked like he was dragged out of a grave with how sickly he looked. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks and lethargic, almost uncanny, moves as he shuffled inside.

“Look what your wife did to my daughter! Look at her!” my dad growled as he pointed at me.

Mr. Gardener looked at me as he was told, and once he saw who I was, rubbed his tired eyes as he nodded.

“Of course, it had to be Violet,” he grunted. “Haah, that woman…”

He asked dad to sit down. My dad wasn’t very keen on it, but seeing how dead inside the person he was talking with looked, he arrived at the same conclusion I did; something really bad happened and the situation was a whole lot more complicated than what we could imagine.

Mr. Gardener dragged his chair from behind the desk and sat right in front of us, slumped over.

“…Me and Elena are divorcing,” he began with a dragged-out voice. “There was a huge argument two weeks ago and me and Abby got out of the house. I take it there was where my wife hit you?”

I nodded, initially unable to form any words. “I haven’t heard from Abby, so I got worried and went to check on her.”

“I see… You’re a good friend,” he told me before making a long pause. “She… she’s not doing well.”

My heart sank as he told me about how Abby hadn’t talked, hadn’t been eating and hadn’t left the bed for all this time. He also told me the reason behind the divorce was all the abuse she had endured all her life. Since there was proof of the abuse, things were looking good about him having her custody, but if she kept on staying in bed, refusing to talk and eat, then there was a chance she’d be taken away and put in an institution.

But if that happens… will I ever see her again?

“Please, take me to her!” I demanded.

I had finally made a friend, there was no way I’d let my first ever friend slip away like that. I wanted to help Abby. I didn’t know how or if I even could be of use, but I refused to let it all end like this.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes! I want to help Abby if I can, so take me to her!”

“I… I don’t know what to say… thank you.”

“But first, we should take care of your face. You—”

“I don’t care about my face,” I said to dad impatiently as I stood up. “Just take me to Abby!”

“You mean…right now?” they asked in unison.

“Yes! Right now!”

“Don’t you want to take care of—”

“Like I said, I don’t care about it!” I practically yelled. “Even if it leaves a scar, it’s not like I’ll be worse for wear!”

They stared at me, both incredulous of my outburst, my dad in particular. Neither he nor I knew I could have this much fervour about anything.

I saw my dad form another protest in his mouth, but almost immediately he closed it under my glare. The two exchanged a look to which my dad nodded.

“I have no words for how thankful I am,” Mr. gardener said solemnly. “Your Violet really is something else.”