Abaddon Illusion

By Lindsey Bakken

If you knew one party would change your life in unimaginable ways, would you go? 

Senior year was supposed to be pointless and fun. For Rose Jackson, it turns into life or death when she and her bodyguard are taken as hostages to a remote island. As they struggle to understand their captivity and their growing feelings, ci

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atmosphere Press
• Release date: Jul 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781639446698

Lindsey Bakken

Lindsey Bakken's current status is that of "Student" at the University of Minnesota. She's been writing since she learned the alphabet and is very excited to share her works. Lindsey loves to travel and wants to study abroad in London or Ireland. A few other things she loves are BOOKS, fireplaces, her job at the library, and people who don't take life so literally.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Rose

Matching leather suitcases line the entryway.

I drop my backpack, and it barely makes a noise. Much louder are my parents’ harried employees. When someone makes a move to clean up my bag—the one thing that doesn’t belong—I retrieve it and follow a winding staircase to my room.

I lay down for a long time before anyone checks in. When someone does, it’s the woman I call Mother: a six-foot, ash-blonde type. She crosses her ankles and leans against the door.

She doesn’t speak. I try to close the gap between us by asking, What’s up?

She takes this as an invitation and enters my room. So dark in here, she comments, flipping on a lamp. I raise my eyebrows but let her have it. Her shadow moves as she readjusts to be in my line of sight. Your father and I are going on vacation.

I assumed so.

She stares at me, clutching my laptop and wearing pajamas. And what are you doing?

A half-completed college application sits on my computer. But I shoot back, Reading. Should I be packing?

Her arms cross. It’s just a question, Rose. No need to be defensive. It’s weird to see her without my father, and her boss, at her side. She puts a delicate hand on my shoulder as I close my laptop. Why don’t you clean up and come downstairs to see us off?

When I get downstairs, in my pajamas, the luggage is gone. My father’s security team clogs the front entrance instead. We’re going to be in Europe for a while, Mom says.

Okay.

My dad enters, and the air changes as it always does. I stopped changing my behavior around him a long time ago, but his employees still stiffen whenever he’s in the room. He catches my eye and says, You won’t even notice we’re gone.

It’s true. Still, I can’t help myself from saying, You guys built a college here. So that I’d stay in Yates after graduation. I try to keep the ice out of my voice as I remember their years of flighty absence.

Yes, and we are so excited that you’ll be close to home! She glances at her watch. You’ll have such a great time with your friends!

College. It’ll be a fresh start, a good change. But the adventure dulls when I consider that I’ll be studying a few miles from home. Why are you going to Europe?

She says, Business. Celebration. Just because we want to. You’ve got school though, Promise. And getting an education is a celebration every day.

I scoff at my full name—Promise. My parents told me they went through a rough patch in their marriage in the first few years. Then they found out my mom was pregnant with me and promised each other they would work things out.

Maybe that promise started in my favor, but all I have to show for it now is a crappy name. And a nickname that doesn’t make sense. Yet their promise worked because I don’t have any siblings named Double Promise or Pinky Swear running around.

A hand pats my back. My dad stands on my other side, the elegant scent of him filling my nostrils. His arm wraps around me in a half hug, shying away from a full embrace.

Duke, the son of my father’s head bodyguard, rounds a corner with his father. His eyes barely register my presence as he engages in a deep, quiet conversation.

My mom hugs me, then picks up a piece of my limp hair and comments, While we’re gone, take some time to focus on yourself and what you want out of life. Graduation will creep up on you. She says it in her particular way: sweet but with an edge of insincerity.

Just like that, her hand finds my father’s and they smoothly walk out the door. In a practiced dance, my father’s security team follows them out. I do as well, ignoring the cool brick stairs on my bare feet.

In the driveway, I get goosebumps and have the sensation that someone is watching me. I glance back and see a hulking figure is standing in the doorway: dark and muscled Duke. I try to ignore him as I watch my dad help my mom into the car. The security team loads a vehicle behind them. My father is taking all his best men.

Hey! I shout, knowing my father hates it. He straightens his suit and takes his foot out of the car he was about to step into. I take a few steps toward the car. Are you going on vacation or to a warzone?

He shakes his head like he’s disappointed, but his eyes are friendly enough. Those dramatics, Rose. We’ll be fine.

What about me, then?

He waves a hand behind me, toward the brute in the doorway. Duke will be here to protect you while we’re gone.

Though Duke is yards away from the expansive drive where I stand, he nods as if he understands.

Bye! my mother calls from the car. My dad gives me a sensible wave, though I’m in arm’s range, and joins her in the car. I don’t wait for it to shrink to Hot Wheel size and turn off the drive. I walk toward the door, and Duke holds it open for me.

Everything is quiet. Not the usual quiet of people working or moving, but the calm of a household given the day off. I meet Duke’s eyes once he closes the door behind me. They offer nothing. I lean against the nearest entryway wall and joke, Quality time for us, finally, because I have no idea what else to say.

He stands straight, not slouching like a typical human. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.

I pat my stomach. I’m kinda hungry…

He corrects himself, and I sense that it’s rare. If you need anything serious. Like protection.

My eyebrows shoot up as my mind goes instantly to condoms. Because what real threats happen in small-town North Carolina? We had a murder-suicide seven years ago. Since then, not even a break-in.

Little do I know what’s coming.

***

I watch the reflections on my school’s polished floors. It’s dizzying as so many students march through the halls, unaware that they’re stepping on blurry versions of themselves. There’s nervous chatter from the newbies, three months into high school and still not sure where they fit in, and then there’s the arrogance of pretty teenagers who’ve been taught the world revolves around them. Two of them are named Tegan and Nadine, and they’re my best friends.

High school is such a trip. Everyone pretends not to care, but they do. And no one is paying that much attention to you, but you feel like the entire world is open to you. Cares about you.

I know I’ll miss it someday, but right now it feels pointless.

I glide around the corner, planning how I’ll miss my AP English class, and crash into someone’s chest. A moment passes, marked only by the steady beat of his heart.

What’re you doing here? I ask.

Duke towers over me, waiting for me to say something. At twenty, he has no reason to be stalking the halls of my high school. He should be at Jackson College, where he gets free tuition from my father.

I cross my arms. Duke crosses his. I raise my eyebrows. He rests an arm against a nearby locker. I try not to stare at his forearms.

The school called me, he says finally. No further explanation. He looks past me, down the hall, as if reminiscing on his time here.

I nod slowly. When he doesn’t offer more, I prod him along with, That’s interesting.

Yeah.

Okay… I take a wide step around him. I know better than to wait; I’ve known him most of my life, and he’s always been short on words and patience for me.

He steps to block my path, a stern reaction for someone who appears so relaxed. It seems you have a recurring absence problem.

Are you talking about my parents? I continue toward the front doors. Light streams into the hallway from the windows, and it makes the place peppier than it is.

Duke follows. His steps are bigger than mine, so he doesn’t even have to rush to catch up. It’s unsatisfying for me, the person who’s trying to make a point. I turn on him, and he stops his advance, a few feet between us in an otherwise empty hallway. Our reflections face off and the water fountain hums. It must be lonely, stuck on the wall, watching the world go by. Watching people grow and change and leave for their next adventures. If you came to creep up teenagers’ skirts, you should probably just head out.

His eyebrows pinch together. I knew the jab at his character would offend him. He weighs his options. We stare at each other and I can’t tell if it means something or absolutely nothing. Then, I decide it doesn’t matter. Above all, I’d rather be the one leading. So, I shove the doors open and head to the parking lot to get some distance.

I’m comfortable in a sweater and leggings, but Duke wears a bright collared shirt and pressed shorts. He looks preppy when he goes to class, and it never fails to amuse me. I know he’d much rather have his hands taped and be shirtless for workouts.

I’d much rather he do the same.

Where are you going? he asks. It’s annoying that he somehow makes it seem like he’s in control of the situation even as he trails behind me, his footsteps unhurried.

I feel like a difficult child and hate it so much that I stop. Maybe we can discuss my absence problem at the house?

He stares at his watch. It’s only one o’clock.

I shrug. So let’s go to the college, get you back in class. I can get the tour for the twentieth time.

He considers but shakes his head. My classes are done for the day. And if you want to go to a different college so badly, you should put more effort into high school.

I hate his observation but relax when I see his blue Honda in the parking lot. I move toward it, ready to ditch school for the day. I take in the smell of fresh air one last time, that almost-freedom scent of being outside the classroom but not quite gone, and get into the car. Once seated—in the back, away from Duke’s stony silence—I allow my mind to rest. It resets my invisible mental clock. Duke gets in, studies me for a minute, and finally starts the car.

After ten minutes of driving, I realize my mistake. Oh shit. I forgot my backpack. And, uh, my car.

Duke glances back but says nothing.

I push my head back in the headrest. In a few hours, classes will be wrapping up. In a few more hours, I’ll be curled up in my bed, staring at the ceiling and pondering the teenage mind.

Typically, landscapers roam our drive. Today I see none and the emptiness reflects how I feel inside. I glance at Duke. His eyes are trained on the road. So serious. So boring. I can’t stand the silence anymore. Impeccable driving, I tell Duke. Where’d you learn?

Duke can’t get out of the car fast enough. I barely hear him say over his shoulder, Same place as you.

***

In between arguing about some guy, Nadine and Tegan shoot looks of disgust—or envy—at my Grande Caramel Frappuccino. They suggested skipping our nine a.m. class in favor of a coffee run.

Nadine sighs. When I meet her eyes, I expect irritation but instead find concern. I’m worried about you. You’ve been so quiet.

I snap, No more than usual.

Tegan moves animatedly as she talks, hitting her wrist bone on the table and rubbing it out. K. So, what’s new since yesterday?

The chiming of the coffee shop door teeters between charming and annoying. When I tell them my parents are in Europe, Nadine snaps her fingers. Picture this: a huge party! It’s senior year. We should celebrate more.

I have a test in the morning, but I agree.

A knock on the café window interrupts our planning: Duke.

He has really been left in charge of my well-being. To the point that he now transports me to my various unimportant activities—apparently a request from my father.

She gives him a wave and her cutest coy smile. Why is he here?

He leans against the car, and his posture isn’t perfect for once as he scrolls through something on his phone. I can’t look away as I say, He’s my babysitter. The wind whips through his hair, barely moving the short strands. When he looks up, I can’t tell if he sees us or his reflection. Either way, he doesn’t look long.

As I’m leaving, Duke enters. I gesture at the door behind him. You were taking a while. He glances at the table I came from, gives my friends a slight nod. They need a lift?

I’m shocked he asked, and an annoyed part of me wonders if Tegan’s flirty wave actually worked. Nah. Actually, there’s no point in going for another hour. I missed first period already.

He pauses outside at the driver-side door. "Your teacher’s pissed. Some essay you didn’t turn in on Jane Eyre."

That’s funny coming from the guy who came to school to talk about my attendance and then drove me home in the middle of the day. I pull my door open. Shoot. That’s right. I didn’t have my backpack.

But you did have your laptop. And your iPad. And your home computers. His hand is up, ticking off all the options I refused to seek out.

I make my hands into puppets and mimic him. ‘And your iPad, and your mini-iPad, and your mini-iPad’s iPad.’ I get it. My bad.

We drive past the mall and the local pizza joint. My stomach rumbles despite the drink it just had, and I hope Duke doesn’t hear it. He’s quiet for a long time. I can tell he wants to say something.

Spit it out.

He bites his tongue, and the act of concession reminded me that we can never be friends when he works for my father. He checks the time and ignores me the rest of the way.

The mild rejection shouldn’t hurt, so I don’t let it. Shoulders back and eyes out the window, I count the blocks to school. He presses his lips together. I wait for them to open, but that doesn’t happen. It’s better this way.

Later, Tegan, Nadine, and I stand around my dining room. Watching them in the soft light of a candle that Tegan lit, I feel close to them. Like, in just the right lighting at the right time of day, we can let down our walls. And what helps stimulate conversation between three teenage girls? With an uncharacteristic pep in my step, I rifle through my parent’s liquor cabinet.

Nadine pours three shots for us. She makes a toast. To almost being legal…in a few years!

My throat warms, and I gag. I’ve been drinking since twelve, something that started as attention-seeking behavior, but I never get used to the taste.

Tegan slaps my back as the doorbell rings. Two male models stand on my porch. The burly blonde one is mine, according to the entire school. We head to the living room. Seriously, love those speakers, Brian says, as Brian always says, whenever he comes over. The bass shakes the floor in seconds as he puts on his favorite playlist.

My contemplative mood passes.

Fifteen minutes and one tight lace dress later, I find myself back at the bar downstairs with my friends. I feel invincible, taking another shot with them like nothing can reach or hurt me. And I feel like tonight will be different. Less lonely than most.

Brian eases in next to me, casually putting an arm around my waist. A bit clingy, but I allow it. He pours us all shots. When I reach for mine, a hand grabs my wrist, causing me to drop it. Booze dribbles down the side of the tabletop.

Whoa man, Brian says, slipping his hand from me and assessing the mess—and Duke, who materialized out of nowhere and caused this. His hand still holds my wrist, firm by oddly gentle.

Duke ignores him and asks me, Should you be doing that?

I say, Is it your job to stop me?

His words aren’t as gentle as his grip: It’s a school night, and I know your academics are important to you. His body is stiff yet seemingly comfortable. Eyes bored and fierce but not quite mad.

It’s hard not to notice Nadine and Tegan perk up in his presence. He’s not staying, I inform them. To him, I say, Screw you, Duke.

Duke crosses his arms and watches while I clean up the booze and pour another shot. I keep my eyes on him the entire time. And I don’t flinch when I taste tequila. I put my hand around Brian’s upper arm, urging him closer.

Tegan cuts through my dramatics and asks him, So, what’s your job like? It must be scary having to protect people all the time.

Duke doesn’t bother answering. He looks her up and down, then exits.

See what I mean? Total buzzkill, I tell her.

Did you see him check me out? Tegan punches my arm. He’s into me.

People stream in. The music gets louder. The smell of liquor permeates the room. I dance with Brian, contemplating the fact that he wouldn’t be the worst choice. He smells good, has strong arms, and is dumb enough to not require much thought on my part. Basically, the best kind of guy you can hope for in high school.

I grab Brian’s hand and lead him to the bar. While I pour drinks, Brian holds my hips. He’s earnest but not too pushy as he spins me around to face him, and his lips meet mine. I forgot how good of a kisser he is. I melt into it, letting his hands roam until I hear Nadine laugh nearby. Is tonight the night?

I roll my eyes, but to answer the question in Brian’s eyes, I say, Maybe.

Nadine says, Oh! This is huge. Our last baby is growing up.

Brian cocks his head. His hand finds my chin with surprising gentleness. You’re finally ready?

His charming eyes are swimming, rapidly moving across my entire body. I like the feeling of his hands gripping my sides. I like the idea of experiencing something new. No point in waiting.

Not romantic, but I’ll take it. He runs his left hand across my body.

I nod, half-listening, and pull him after me again until we’re on the makeshift dance floor. I get lost in the song, not caring that I’m uncoordinated or that the cute guy from calc showed up.

My vision is a little blurry, but there he is! Not the guy from calc—Duke. Instead of annoyance, I feel pity when I see him standing there, just staring in at the party. He must feel a massive disconnect since he works here, and I live here. I wonder if he feels like he doesn’t belong.

I have to tell him he belongs.

That we can be friends.

Enough time wasted.

I wave Duke over. Brian stops dancing behind me, eyes scrunched. Give me a minute, I tell him. He shrugs and walks away.

Duke studies me upon arrival. What do you need?

I wave my hand at his preposterous question. Oh. I don’t need anything.

He leans in. His hair tickles my cheek. What?

I pull him away from the party so we can talk somewhere quieter. His hand engulfs mine for a moment, but he steals it back once we’re out of the room. I try again, feeling less pressure now that it’s not so loud. I wasn’t asking you over as a bodyguard. I asked you over as a guy at a party. You know, you’re invited to join in on the festivities.

He leans against the wall. How generous. Actually, I’m trying to do homework.

I admire his focus. I also admire the high cheekbones that give his face a hard look. The dark skin and hair. I’ve watched him do homework before, his elbow propped up in a way that makes the muscles in his right shoulder push through his shirt, his eyebrows creased in a mix of awe and frustration.

Miraculously, I don’t say any of that. That’s all you do: study and train with your dad.

He shrugs and glances back at the door we came through. He pays no attention to me, and it makes me wonder why he agreed to talk with me at all. When I struggle to find words, he turns to walk away. He even nods a little bit like, Yup, that’s what I thought. A waste of time.

My drunk mind flips from awed to annoyed. My teeth hurt from clenching. You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?

Where’d that come from? I shrug and feel a bit bad for the outburst. But he stopped moving, so it’s worth it. Okay. Well, sure, I do. And so do you. The only difference is that I’ve worked to make myself better.

Then he walks away for