Purifier

You Failed

"The only real failure is the failure to try, and the measure of success is how we cope with disappointment." - Deborah Moggach

The night draped itself over the quiet streets like a heavy shroud, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and contort with each passing moment. Abigail's apartment building stood silent and watchful, its windows darkened, its corridors empty save for the faint echo of distant footsteps. Jameson paced restlessly in the dimly lit foyer, the soft hum of the flickering fluorescent lights offering little solace against the encroaching darkness outside. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on his shoulders like a leaden cloak. Outside, the city seemed to hold its breath, the usual hustle and bustle replaced by an eerie stillness that sent a chill down Jameson's spine. The flickering streetlights cast erratic patterns on the pavement below, their feeble glow struggling to penetrate the thick veil of night. As Jameson peered out into the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that unseen dangers lurked just beyond the edges of his vision. Shadows danced and swirled in the corners of his mind, whispering secrets that he dared not listen to. With each passing moment, the sense of foreboding grew more palpable, a tangible presence that seemed to wrap its icy fingers around his heart. Where was Abigail? Why hadn't she returned home? Jameson's thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of approaching footsteps, echoing like a mournful dirge through the empty halls. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he stepped out into the night, determined to confront the shadows that lurked in the darkness. But little did he know, the true danger lay not in the streets outside, but in the unseen shadows that lingered within. Jameson stepped into the dimly lit interior of Abigail's apartment, a sense of unease settling over him like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings felt strangely foreign in Abigail's absence, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of floorboards beneath his feet. He cast a wary glance around the room, taking in the scattered remnants of Abigail's life: a half-finished cup of coffee left abandoned on the kitchen counter, a stack of unread newspapers piled haphazardly by the door, and the faint scent of her favorite perfume lingering in the air. With a heavy heart, Jameson made his way further into the apartment, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty space. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, a nagging sense of dread that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. As he passed by Abigail's desk, his gaze fell upon a series of papers scattered across the surface, each one adorned with cryptic symbols and strange markings that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Jameson's brow furrowed in confusion as he reached out to examine them, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the intricate patterns etched onto the page. What did these symbols mean? And why were they here in Abigail's apartment? His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden chirp of his phone, a sharp jolt of sound that shattered the silence like a gunshot. With a start, Jameson fumbled for his device, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw the message displayed on the screen. It was a text from an unknown number, the words ominous and foreboding:

"You shouldn't be here, Jameson. Leave while you still can."

A chill ran down Jameson's spine as he read the message, a cold shiver of fear creeping up his spine. Who was sending these messages? And what did they want with him? With a sense of growing unease, Jameson realized that he was not alone in Abigail's apartment. Someone—or something—was watching him, lurking in the shadows just beyond his sight. And as the darkness closed in around him, Jameson couldn't shake the feeling that he was treading on dangerous ground.

The cemetery lay shrouded in darkness, the moon casting eerie shadows among the rows of tombstones. Abigail stood before her father's grave, her features etched with determination as she confronted the memories that haunted her. She felt the weight of grief pressing down on her chest, a tangible reminder of the void left by her father's absence. Suddenly, a presence stirred in the darkness, causing Abigail to tense instinctively. From the depths of the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in darkness, his form obscured by the night. Abigail's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the familiar aura of malevolence that surrounded him. "Samael," she spoke his name with a mixture of defiance and dread, her voice tinged with unease. The figure regarded her with cold, calculating eyes, his expression unreadable.
"Abigail," he replied, his voice like a whisper in the stillness of the night. There was an edge to his tone, a subtle menace that sent a shiver down her spine.
"What do you want?" Abigail demanded, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear that gripped her. Samael stepped forward, his movements fluid and predatory.
"I've come to offer you a choice," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "A chance to embrace the darkness that lies within you, to wield its power as your own." Abigail recoiled at his words, her resolve hardening.
"I want nothing to do with you or your twisted offers," she spat, her voice laced with defiance. Samael's lips curled into a sinister smile, his eyes glittering with malice.
"Perhaps you will reconsider," he said, his voice low and dangerous. With a flicker of movement, he vanished into the shadows, leaving Abigail alone with her thoughts and the chilling certainty that their paths would cross again.

Abigail strides into the office, her presence commanding attention. Clad in a sleek black dress with accents of dark red, her ensemble exudes confidence and defiance. The subtle hint of fishnet stockings adds a touch of rebelliousness to her attire, signaling her departure from the timid persona she once embodied. As Abigail makes her way through the bustling workspace, Jameson catches sight of her and rushes over, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. "Abigail, hey!" Jameson's voice rings with enthusiasm as he approaches. "I've been meaning to talk to you. How have you been?" Abigail barely spares him a glance, her focus elsewhere.
"Busy," she replies curtly, her tone clipped. Jameson's smile falters, replaced by a furrow of confusion.
"Uh, yeah, I can see that. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch later? Catch up?" Abigail's response is noncommittal.
"Maybe." Meanwhile, Mr. Thompson, the no-nonsense editor-in-chief, spots Abigail's arrival and wastes no time in summoning her to his office.
"Abigail, a word," Mr. Thompson's voice carries a note of annoyance as he gestures for her to enter his office. "You're late. Again." Abigail meets his scolding with a calm resolve.
"I had some things to take care of," she replies evenly, her gaze unwavering. Mr. Thompson sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Look, I understand, but this is becoming a pattern. We can't have you slipping up like this, especially with your next assignment." In their conversation, Mr. Thompson outlines Abigail's next assignment, a high-profile piece that promises to test her skills as a reporter. His words are laden with expectations, a subtle challenge for Abigail to prove herself worthy of the task at hand. Though initially taken aback by the magnitude of the assignment, Abigail accepts it with a quiet determination, eager to prove her worth in the eyes of her superiors. Throughout the day, Abigail's interactions with her coworkers reveal a subtle shift in dynamics. Former friends offer tentative smiles, unsure how to approach the transformed woman before them. Even Kyra, her once trusted confidante turned bitter rival, regards Abigail with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, sensing a newfound strength in her resolve. As the workday draws to a close, Abigail finds herself alone at her desk, the hum of the office fading into the background. In the quiet solitude of the workspace, she reflects on the events of the day, the weight of her newfound confidence settling upon her shoulders. Despite the challenges that lie ahead, she remains undaunted, ready to embrace the shadows that linger on the horizon.

word count: 1384