Twisted Ties

Ch. 2 - SHE DOESN'T DESERVE IT

ALEXIA



I reacted immediately when he revealed the blade of the knife. I hadn't seen the bottom because his fingers coiled around it and my hand involuntarily reached out to protect myself from the stab I thought I would get from him.

The blade of the knife was sharp and as I raised my hands forward to shield my face, it sliced my forearm, just above the wrist; a searing pain shot through me. I gasped, my eyes widening as blood oozed from the cut, a crimson droplet shining on my skin.

He moved backwards, surprised that I had reacted. In a split second, I reached for my bag and found the pepper spray bottle, and I aimed the top at his face.

“Drop the knife!”

This was stupid. He was stronger; his frame was imposing; he could kill me, but I didn't care.

He held his hands up and rotated the knife, revealing the corkscrew attachment I hadn't seen earlier. The pocket knife is the kind that also has a corkscrew attached to it. The twisted metal screw seemed to mock me as he dropped the wine and glass cup too.

“Why did you come closer?” He whispered, his breath ragged. “I wanted to use the corkscrew to open the wine for you."

My gaze dropped to the pocket knife, the corkscrew attachment gleaming innocently. “Why did you show the knife first?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

Kurt took his hands down. “The knife part had a loose screw. I can't use the corkscrew without the knife swinging out. I'm sorry I scared you.” He looked at my bleeding wrist. “I should get you to the hospital.”

I shook my head and reached for my bag. I brought out a soft handkerchief. With precision, I gently wrapped it around my wounded arm.

I didn't have much time to waste; I needed to know what happened to Abigail. “Where is my sister's body?”

Kurt had taken the wine and the bottle. He poured for me and got up to go behind the counter, where he retrieved another cup before coming to sit down. He set his glass down, the liquid amber glowing in the dim light.

“Where it should be.”

I narrowed my eyes, irritation sparking within them. “That is not a very comforting answer to give me, Mr. Howard.”

He waved his hands, as if wanting to keep me shut. “You are looking at me like you think I killed her. I didn't kill Abigail.”

“Then tell me what happened," I pressed on, my voice softer.

“I love her so much,” he said and went on. “She was blasted to dust right in front of me.” His voice cracked, and his eyes welled up with tears.

“When?” I asked him, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kurt looked away from me, pain still etched on his face. “A week ago.”

My eyes widened. It felt like I had been punched in the gut, making my breath stop in my throat. “A week ago?” I repeated, incredulous.

Kurt's face went cold. His eyes were dim, and he looked somber, but the pain still lingered. “It's a lot to take in, I understand, Alexia.”

His words ignited a fire in me, and I fought the urge to lash out. I shook my head; my mind reeled from the pain. “A lot to take in?” I repeated, my tone rising. “You are telling me my sister died, and you didn't think to call me?”

A muscle ticked in his cheek, and I feared it would break free. “I wasn't sure what I was dealing with, Alexia. I had to be cautious.”

I scoffed, anger coursing through my skin. "Did you just say cautious?" I ragged. "My sister is dead, and you were cautious?" I leaned forward, my eyes red. "I was supposed to be the first person you'd call, Mr. Howard.”

Kurt's hands rose and immediately fell; he was calm; his eyes were cool now. "Hear me out. I made an announcement two days ago. Abigail is a public figure, so I had to let her fans know, and then I called her, but first, I knew I had to verify some things.”

“This is the height of it! You took a week to verify some things when my sister was dead?” I spluttered as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes and fell. “Now, tell me why I wouldn't think you killed Abigail?”

Kurt's hands dropped, his shoulders sagging. “Can we go to the hospital? You are losing blood; also, there's something you have to see, Alexia.” He begged, his voice laced with weariness.

I shook my head. "I am not going anywhere with you, Mr. Howard, not until you tell me the truth.”

"Please, Alexia, at least, allow me to take you to the hospital. I promise you, I'll tell you everything.”

He is tired, Alexia, I told myself. The lines on his face, the worry, the concern showed he was tired.

“I don't even know how to react to this, Mister Howard,” I declared, “but lead the way.”

The thirty-minute drive to the hospital ended in silence. I didn't allow Kurt to touch me as he led me to the counter to meet a nurse. The nurse knew what to do when she saw me.

After the nurse left me in the room, my gaze fell upon a floor-to-floor curtain divider, its fabric a dull blue. It was always the same color in hospitals. My curiosity piqued to see what was behind it, and I pushed it aside.

I saw a bed, and it was occupied by Kurt. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He suddenly sat up, worry laced on his face when the doctor came in. “I can't let anyone know about my injury.”

The doctor gave him a calm smile. “I understand Mr. Howard. You should rest, your blood pressure is high.”

Kurt just nodded. “I need to tell my wife's sister that I was…”

I went out when I heard that, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. “Where is my sister?” I demanded with a rise of my voice. “You've been acting weird since I got here! Where is Abigail?”

The doctor understood what was happening and he left. It took a while for me to calm down, and I sat far away from Kurt.

“I was in the place where Abigail's car got bombed. It was our villa, and she was coming to see me. I got injured when I went close to the flames.” Kurt's words dropped like stones, shattering the silence.

“Like I said, I didn't know what I was dealing with; I had to be cautious. We were in our private villa when her car got bombed. I was supposed to surprise her before her car caught fire right before me.” Kurt's face twisted in regret as he went on. "I'm sorry, Alexia. I was trying to protect her.”

I sucked in air to keep myself from screaming. “Take me to her grave.”

“I'll take you there.”

Kurt led me to Abigail's grave, a tombstone bearing her name in elegant script. He said that only he and the grave diggers knew of her death.

“Who did this to my sister?” I asked when we got back to the hospital room I was placed in.

Kurt's eyes were sad as he replied. “I think Abigail knew she would be like this.” He said and went to a shelf behind him. It was like he owned this room and the hospital itself.

He brought out a book, and somehow I had thought it would be a knife. He gave it to me, and I carefully read the details. It was Abigail's diary. The worn leather cover felt heavy in my hands as I read its contents.

I swallowed the lump of saliva in my throat. “The diary,” I paused, “there's a code in it. We've always used it since we were little,” I said, nostalgia waving over my voice, "we used it whenever we wanted to act like each other. Abigail could act like me; I could act like her. It was easy because we were identical.”

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "The diary was the last thing she mentioned before her death that day, and when I remembered it, I called you here. What does it mean?”

My fingers traced the curves of Abigail's handwriting. “She knew she'd be in danger, or worse, she knew she'd be killed, and she wanted me to act like her so we'd find out who did this to her. This means I will be Abigail since no one knows about me except you.”

"What if I am not the only one who knows about you, Alexia?” Kurt whispered, his gaze darting around the room.

I looked at him; his words were simple yet eerily true. If I were to pick a suspect, it would surely be Kurt Howard. I would keep my eyes on him, but I knew I wouldn't be able to act like Abigail.

Even if I loved her, I would never act like her. She doesn't deserve it.