Game Theory × NH

076 | osmium

× Horan

It was after two in the morning by the time I got to the Newman house. It had been a long flight back to London, but now that I was back home, I couldn't have been more relieved. It was fun to be in California, but there was something about the ugly snow and gray sky of London that I missed so much.

But the second I stepped off the elevator and saw who was waiting for me at my door, I would have taken anything to go back to LA.

Even in below freezing tempters, Abby Moor still wore her tiny dresses. This dress in particular was pink and fluttered down to her knees, which for Abby, was relatively modest. She wore matching pink Toms and white socks with little ruffles. She completed the look with a leather jacket, setting off the whole goody-girl look with some grunge. That alone made me hesitate. Something was wrong and I really didn't want to be a part of it.

Adjusting the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder, I slowly made my way over to her. "What are you doing here, Abby?" I asked. "It's passed two in the goddamn morning."

"Looking for you," she confessed, her baby blue eyes sad. "A birdie told me that you were coming home late. I've been here since midnight."

"Jesus," I muttered as I brushed passed her to unlock my door.

Abby stepped up beside me so I could see her face. "I wasn't waiting here all night, but in the building, the lobby specifically."

After unlocking the door, I stepped inside and waited for her to join me before closing it again. I flicked on the light and dropped my duffel back on my bed. I had always known Abby was crazy, but this was actually ridiculous. If I really wanted to, I could have easily reported her for stalking. But ever since James figured out that we slept together, she had been keeping her distance from me, so knowing she would wait two hours for me to return, I knew that something was really troubling her.

"Why are you here?" I asked again. "Don't you go to your parents during break?"

"And you always stay here during Christmas," she retorted, gesturing to my bags.

When I didn't say anything, she sighed heavily and took a seat on the edge of my bed. I always thought Abby had this confident beauty to her, keeping her head up high and always having a smile on her face, but as she sat there, I saw that confidence she once possessed hidden underneath self-doubt.

"I left early," she explained dejectedly. "My parents aren't very proud of me and I was getting sick of all the harassment."

"What were they saying?"

"That I'm a whore. Ever since they figured out I wasn't a virgin, that's all they think I am; a whore, a slut, a shame to the family. They wanted me to be 'pure' to whoever I married, like it was an actual sin for me to have sex before - they're not even religious! I don't sleep around that much, not like my brother does. But is he a slut? Of course not. He's cherished; the family's honor or some bullshit like that. I can't catch a break."

I took a seat on the bed beside her and ran a hand down my face. "I know this won't mean much to you, but you're not a whore, Abby."

She looked at me, like that was exactly the words she needed to hear. "Thank you."

I watched as she removed her leather jacket from her shoulders and scooted further onto the bed, lying back onto my pillow. She played with a strand of blonde hair between her fingers as she stared at the ceiling.

"Even if I did sleep around more," she started, "it's no one's goddamn business. It's my body and no one should have a say in what I should or shouldn't do, especially my parents."