50
It was no use. Abigail had not slept all night; she’d tossed and turned, checking the clock and her phone every half hour, it seemed. Finally, seeing it was six o’clock, she pulled herself out of bed. He could have at least sent her a text telling her he was alright. She’d left him a concerned voicemail, after all. It was the least he could do.
After checking no one was in the bathroom, Abigail crept across the landing, turned the shower taps on and undressed, folding her pyjamas and placing them on the toilet seat lid. Getting under the hot water felt so good after an awful night’s sleep. The strong jets prodded her skin, as she thought about last night.
What was wrong with her? Abigail’s only excuse for behaving like a seventeen-year-old girl last night was getting caught up in the
