CHAPTER THREE

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By the time they stopped at some rundown gas station three hours down the road, Abigale's legs were cramping up. While her mother filled the Jeep with gas, Abigale wandered inside the convenience store, partly to stretch her limbs and partly to pursue a bathroom. A guy no older than thirty sat behind the counter. When she stepped inside the store, he flashed her a grin. She smiled back, even though a shiver ran down the length of her spine at the sight of his stained teeth and beady eyes.

"I was just wondering where the washrooms were?" Her voice was edged with a nervousness she couldn't contain.

The man pointed to the opposite end of the convenience store, his smile never wavering. "Down the hallway and to the right, sweetheart."

She tried not to look repulsed by the pet name and thanked him before nearly sprinted to the back of the store. After scanning over the back wall, Abigale finally found the hallway he'd directed her to. When she pushed through the door to the single unisex bathroom, she immediately wrinkled her nose. It smelled worse than her father's breath after eating her grandmother's deviled eggs – which were always full of onions. After pinching her nose with her fingertips, Abigale reluctantly stepped inside and locked the door.

***

A few minutes later, Abigale was out of the washroom. The stench of the backed-up toilet still lingered in her nostrils, giving her the desire to gag. Walking down the potato chip aisle on her way to the front of the store, she grabbed some Doritos, and approached the counter. As she fished for her wallet in the pocket of her jeans, the man ran her chips through the till.

He told her the amount in an overly-friendly voice and she hastily handed him the exact change. However, instead of grabbing the change from her outstretched hand, his fingers latched onto her wrist, pulling her forward. "You look a little young to be wandering around by yourself, girly."

Her heart pounded as she attempted to yank her hand away. She glanced down at the hand that wrapped around her wrist and then up to his chest, where his metal-plated name tag shone in the fluorescent lighting.

Markus, she noted.

She looked back up to his face. His eyes scanned her from the other side of the counter, and goose bumps began to crawl up the arm he squeezed.

"Let me go," Abigale said, her voice quavering.

"Are you here alone? That's not very smart of you," he said, squeezing her wrist tighter. Panic rose from the deepest part of her soul as she was jerked forward, her ribs slamming against the counter.

She winced, using all of her strength to pry her arm free. "I said, let me go!"

"Abigale?" In the same instant that her mother walked into the store, the man released her wrist. Taking advantage of the freedom, Abigale grabbed her chip bag and raced out of the store, right past her mother, whom of which shot the store attendant a look of silent fury.

She saw everything, Abigale realized with relief as she rubbed the spot under her ribs where the counter had jabbed.

Instead of becoming a witness to what her mother was about to say to the slime ball named Markus, Abigale climbed in the Jeep's passenger seat and locked the door. She sat there in silence, the only source of noise being from her Doritos bag, which made crinkling sounds in her shaking hands.

Abigale stared at the set of glass doors – which were covered with posters of all kinds. If her mother hadn't walked in, Abigale wasn't sure what could've happened. She'd seen enough horror movies to know that anything that could have happened would not have been good for her health.

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