Abigale didn't stick around to meet the neighbours. Instead, she went inside like her mother asked. Before this, however, she decided to watch how the scene unfolded from her doorstep. The person who had walked out of the house – a boy who looked fresh out of high school – walked right up to Abigale's mother and extended his hand. When her mother shook it firmly, his eyes drifted up to where Abigale stood. She remained on the front step like a fool, her mouth suddenly dry as she caught sight of his dark blue irises. Like the colour of water at the sea floor, she found herself completely entranced.

When she finally regained her senses a few moments later, Abigale stepped inside of the house and slammed the front door shut. A hot blush filled her cheeks as she realized how odd and stalker-like she must have looked.

She rested the length of her body against the inside of the door for an instant, peering out through the distorted glass. Abigale was curious of her new neighbour, but she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was his eyes, or the fact he kept looking up to the house like he was searching for something, or someone. As far as she could tell, he couldn't see her from the outside of the door, so she was safe from further humiliation.

Abigale's mom pointed to the stack of boxes slowly piling up on the sidewalk as the driver of the U-Haul truck unloaded them. The boy followed her mother's gaze to the boxes and nodded. They exchanged a few more words before the two walked over to the ever-growing stack. Abigale then turned from the door and looked onward to the rest of the house.

The interior was bland and rather bare. The last owners had left nothing in the house besides a few chairs and table in the dining room, a couch and side table in the living room, and a microwave, fridge, and stove in the kitchen. The walls for each room were painted the same colour: a creamy white that resembled the shade of her old bedsheets from when she was a kid. The floors were a mixture of tile and plush brown carpet.

Wow, Abigale thought to herself as she finished walking through the first floor. This was definitely a nicer place than her home in San Francisco, which had been barely large enough for her and her mother and father. Here, her mother could have had at least two more children and they all would've been able to fit inside comfortably.

After walking back through the living room door, Abigale looked up the stairs to the second floor curiously. She assumed her bedroom would be on that floor but wasn't sure whether or not she should take a look yet. Part of her was worried. Abigale didn't feel right about walking through this house she was to call her own, but she forced herself up the stairs anyway.

She counted the number of stairs she climbed. It came to a total of nineteen steps. Nineteen steps to climb each time she wanted to live in solitude. Abigale pursed her lips together as she reached the second floor. She could live with that.

The stairs led to a larger room – most likely a space for her mother's office – that had two doors on opposite sides leading out. She first walked to the right door, which held a vacant room. The room behind the left door had the same layout.

Abigale walked back into the first room. This would be her bedroom, she decided.

"Abigale?" The front door slammed shut. "Can you help me with this please?"

She exited her new bedroom with reluctance. Using quick footing, Abigale reached the first floor just in time to see their new neighbour, Mr. Piercing-Blue-Eyes, help her mother with the box she was about to drop.

"Thank you," her mother said breathlessly as he put the box down near the stairs. "You don't need to do all this by the way."

"It's not a problem, really." His eyes then darted to Abigale for a moment. "I like helping out."

For some reason, Abigale felt there was a double meaning to his words.

"Abigale!" her mother said, finally realizing she was standing there. "I would like you to meet our new neighbour—"

"—Damien Thackston," he interrupted, extending a hand to Abigale. She shook it tentatively.

"Abigale Fern."

She bit down on her lip as those eyes met hers again. They were so intimidating . . . so analytical. She felt as if he was probing her, trying to dig up anything he could about her. It sent chills down the length of her spine. The dizzying trance Damien held her under broke when he let go of her hand and backed away.

"Well, now that everyone has been introduced," her mother said in a chipper tone, oblivious to Abigale's uncomfortable feelings about the boy. "Damien, would you like to stay for supper? We're getting takeout from that Chinese restaurant a couple of streets down from here."

Abigale gave her mother a pleading look, praying she didn't hear what she thought she just heard. She didn't want her first night to be spent socializing with a boy she wasn't sure she wanted to know any better than she already had. There was something about him that made her feel alive and ready for anything, but there was another part that screamed danger. And she wasn't sure she liked either half.

Damien's eyes darted from Abigale, to her mother, to Abigale again. A smile slowly spread across his face. "That would be lovely, Mrs. Fern."

"Please, call me Miranda."

Abigale wrinkled her nose in disgust. Her mother didn't even let Tiffany – who'd been friends with Abigale since elementary school – use her first name, but now she was letting a complete stranger do so?

"Are you okay with that, Abigale?"

Abigale could sense the forceful tone in her mother's voice. She had no choice but to say she was fine with it, or there would be consequences later on. So, Abigale assured Damien it was okay.

"Great! I'll look up the number. Abigale, why don't you help the nice man outside carry in the chairs for the dining table?" her mother asked sweetly, giving her a look that wasn't as sweet.

Again, Abigale knew she didn't have a choice in the matter. She gave her mother a curt nod before walking to the door and slipping her Asics sneakers over her feet. She then exited the house with Damien close behind.

"I've got it," she muttered to Damien without turning around.

"I know," he replied. Despite this, he remained standing a few feet away.

Abigale bit her lip but didn't say anything else. She wrapped her fingers around the back of one of the dining room chairs and lifted it up the sidewalk. Damien, sensing the chair was too lopsided for one person to carry, grabbed the chair legs and helped Abigale carry it in the house. She gave him a begrudging smile, knowing she would have dropped it if he hadn't helped. He returned the grin as they set the chair down in the dining room.

"Three to go," he told her as they walked outside again. The sun was already fading from the sky, and it was only eight in the evening. Abigale sighed and grabbed another chair from the U-Haul truck driver, giving him a small nod and a smile.

Damien helped Abigale get the last three chairs into the dining room. By that time, her mother was on the phone with the restaurant. As she placed their order, Abigale took a seat at the table.

"How old are you, Abigale?" Damien asked casually, leaning his hip against the dining room wall. She ran her eyes down his lean profile, noting the pectoral muscles that strained against his fitted dark T-shirt.

Abigale looked away, trying to hide the blush that had blossomed on her cheeks. "I just turned seventeen in August. Why?"

Damien's eyes narrowed slightly. The look caused another shiver to race down her spine, but a sensation of dragonflies also erupted in Abigale's stomach. She shifted in her seat as he said, "I was just curious."

She nodded, her eyes glued to the grains in the table. "How old are you?"

She made the mistake of glancing up at him and found herself staring into his eyes again. Her mouth went dry for the third time that day, but this time, she couldn't pull away. Damien seemed to ponder the question for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he should tell her his exact age. Then he sighed and pushed his thumb through a belt loop in his dark wash jeans. "Twenty-one."

Before Abigale could react to the four-year age difference, her mother strolled back into the room with a smile on her face. "Dinner shouldn't be too long now. Make yourself comfortable, Damien."

_____________________________________________________________

That's it! I hope you enjoyed the first few chapters of this story. I can assure you that those who haven't yet read the story will be in for a wild ride if they decide to read the rest when it is published! 

"Three murders. Two killers. One stalker."

If you would like to receive updates on the publishing of "Delusions", please make sure to keep this in your library as well as follow my social media channels listed in my Wattpad bio!

Until next time!

Please, Comment/Vote/Follow!

xXAmy_CXx