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The only upmarket accessory that she had was a helmet. She was dressed in a blouse and skirt, not the type of dress cyclists now wore. "I'll help you with that", he said as the bike had to be lifted onto the bicycle hook. She gave a grunt and sat down opposite him. Engaging women into a conversation could be difficult if there was no starting point and this woman didn't seem that interest, but she had a bike so there was an opening for a conversation. "Are you heading anywhere in particular?" he asked. The woman just stared back and the expression on her face was not encouraging. All he could do was accept the situation and shut-up.For her part she really didn't know how to respond. She came from a violent family; her mother had been repeatedly bashed by her father and sexually abused by his brother. She had come to fear men finding herself many times in a situation where she had to perform sexual acts, especially with her Uncle, her mother's abuser, if she wanted assistance and many. Everything was painted in hues of blue in the absent of light.This was her room now. Her Sire's orders.Abigail felt the oppression of the sun outside the room and the walls of Faust Tower in downtown Chicago. She curled down naked on the floor, her clothing having been stripped away by Faust, the vampire who Sired her, the moment she arrived before she was shoved into here. She curled up on her side, her arm acting as a pillow.And closed her eyes.Damien's face filled her mind as she sank into sleep. I let him die. There was no way for him to get the keys.That saddened her. It was her Sire's will for Damien to die by sunlight, but the human part of Abigail loved her husband. If she was still human, guilt would have clouded her mind and kept sleep away.She plunged into her dreams.Abigail watched herself stalking through the cafeteria, moving on the balls of her feet, crossbow in hand. It was...surreal to the vampiress. She sat on one of the cafeteria tables. Her Sire, Faust, watched in.
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