Chapter Text
The room was massive! Abigail thought the last space was big, but this one was on a different level. Calling it a room felt wrong, but she didn't know what other word to use. It was full of partitions and short walls holding dozens of paintings. There were even those headless mannequins everywhere, like suits of armor keeping watch over the space.
From what Abigail could see, all the paintings were different versions of the ‘Lady in Red’. The same in all ways but the color of their dresses and eyes. Will placed himself more in front of her, taking a more hunched stance. “Stay close, okay Abigail?” She nodded, taking hold of Will's arm so as not to get too far from him.
They moved slowly around the space, trying not to be noticed by the possibly murderous paintings. Abigail tried to create a map in her head of the room, keeping inventory of everything that stood out. Such as the lady reading a newspaper, who got very mad at them for blocking her view. As well as a giant statue of a fancy-dressed person. Similar to the mannequins having no real features, mainly just a wire body holding the clothes up. There was also a copy of the hanging man from the gallery.
“This was the painting I liked the most in the gallery.” Will commented. She remembered seeing him standing there staring before it, never seeing him move or look at any other piece. Abigail didn't see the appeal at all, and from the description of the work it didn't seem to hold any big value to the artist either. Simply something he was commissioned to do for a magazine. She thought it was creepy at best and boring at worst. “Why this one? Did you know about it before the gallery?”.
“I didn't, but it immediately pulled my eyes when I first saw it. I think, with working in law enforcement, I have a sort of weird relationship with death. Especially a death like this, a hanging.” Wills stared at the painting as he had before, transfixed and unmoving. “Plus, while in school, I was interested in bugs and the decay process via bugs. I'm very familiar with what a body looks like once dead, during many different stages of decomposition. This one looks like he had just died, so fresh he looks to still be in pain.”
Will sounded in awe, not disgust or sadness in his tone. It makes sense though, being a cop back in Louisiana she can imagine he had seen his fair share of interesting deaths. Though bugs? “Bugs were your special interest as a kid?” That made Will laugh. “That's what you focused on? My interest in bugs?” He was looking at Abigail again, smiling just a touch. It would probably be better described as more of a smirk, but was kinder than would be standard. It was nice.
Abigail couldn't help but smile back, he looked soft and approachable like this. Her face grew hot and her chest filled with gentle butterflies, feeling so proud for being the reason for that face. “You can't deny it's a weird interest. Were you aiming to do something with bugs before you became a cop?”. Just as Will was going to answer, a crashing sound could be heard somewhere else in the big room. They stood still, waiting to hear if there was more. But all they could catch now was the sound of something being dragged further away. There wasn't time to chat. They continued on their trek.
Now that they had looked around the main space, they moved to check all the doors they could enter. One room had a vase with water, which they made sure to remember for later. The other had just a table and canvas. The canvas was stuck to the floor, but the table could be moved. Abigail found what looked to be indents in the floor, four square-shaped holes. Putting two and two together she pushed the table to the holes until it got stuck, and they heard a clicking sound outside. It brought them to the opposite side of the room and a new door. Entering, all that was inside was a mirror.
“Must be used for storage.” Will muttered, walking further in. Abigail followed, walking straight to the mirror. No writing or buttons or even designs, there wasn't anything special on or around it that she could see. Abigail could finally see how she looked sensed being trapped.
Bags are under her eyes, her skin has an almost ashy tone. She looked tired. No feelings of hunger or thirst, but she looked like she hadn't had anything of substance for days. Overall, she looked rough, which at least matched how she felt. Will came up behind her, looking as well. He didn't look as bad, at least in Abigail's opinion. But she hadn't seen much of him outside this space, so maybe he looked dilapidated in comparison. Whichever way, he didn't seem too shocked at what he saw.
“We should keep going,” Will said, breaking the silence. “I think I saw where we needed to..”, his voice petered off after turning around. Eyebrows having furrowed, not liking what he saw. Quickly, Abigail turned to see what was happening.
A mannequin head was in front of the door. It was one of those big, white, porcelain heads they had seen in previous rooms. Neither of them heard anything though, the door hadn't opened. “Did you see that thing in here when we entered?” Will asked, not turning his eyes away from the thing. Abigail shook her head, keeping her eyes on the new addition to the room. “No. I didn't see any of those outside while we walked around either. Did you?” Will put his arm out as she asked her question, blocking Abigail from the head and offering some level of protection. Which seemed so silly, it was just a head. And they hadn't been deadly from their previous encounters. But you can never be too careful in a place like this, she supposed.
“This room was empty when we first came in, I saw nothing other than this mirror.” Will's eyes weren't moving, continuing to stare down the mannequin even as he spoke. Maybe he could intimidate it enough to make it go away. “Maybe it was the mirror that made it come in? We might have activated something without meaning to.” Abigail turned to it, voicing her thoughts. “It's the only other thing in here, there must be a switch we flipped or a sensor of some kind.” She leaned in, looking at it closely to see if she missed anything.
Will turned just his head, looking alongside her. “It's possible, though neither of us did anything other than look at ourselves. Could be some kind of motion censer.” Abigail didn't see anything that stood out, no bumps or designs or anything. Nothing on the edges either. She turned back to let Will know.
The mannequin's head was right at Will's shoulder now.
Abigail screamed, and quickly sidestepped away. Her yell alerted Will, making him notice the floating head. He stepped back as well, which caused the head to drop back to the floor. He made no noise of shock, beginning to pick up his foot. He was going to stomp on it. Abigail froze, it felt wrong. She didn't know why, it wasn't like this was a living thing that deserved their forgiveness, right? So why did it feel like they were about to hurt something small and defenseless? About to cause a chain reaction?
Before Will could step down, Abigail jumped forward and grabbed him around his waist. “Wait Will, don't!” He froze, foot mid-air and just a hair away from destruction. “This feels wrong! Please don't, this feels wrong!” She rambled, hoping to make Will see her point. She remembered trying to do the same with her dad, convincing him that what he wanted to do didn't need to happen. That it would only make their lives harder. He never listened. Never.
There was silence, as her words took a spin around Will's head. Slowly, he lowered his foot back to the ground, leaving the head alone. After a bit, Abigail breathed a big sigh, and released her hold on Will's waist. “Thank you, thank you for listening to me.” She probably sounded too sincere with how Will was looking at her. He moved his hand back to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Your opinion matters to me. And if we are going to get out of here, we can't be fighting over things. Hey,”, he shook her slightly, making her meet him eye to eye. “If you have a bad feeling about something, or feel anyway about what path we are taking, tell me. We will figure this stuff out, and we will do it together. Ok?”
Abigail gave a small nod, shocked by Will's words. He cared so much, more than any adult had in her life thus far. Even her mom didn't seem to hold her words that highly, and she loved her to bits. But Will took her seriously, and trusted her words and opinions. He treated her like an equal.
Will sighed, releasing Abigail and turned back to give a final look to the head. “Let's keep going.” He said as they left. The head got in on its own, it should be able to leave just the same.
The rooms puzzles were more like a big game of pass along. No real thinking went into it, which was good considering they needed to keep dodging and running away from the paintings crawling all over the place. They could at least focus on surviving and put the problem solving aside for now. The final piece was a small bird statute they traded for with the fancy dressed statue. It was for a bird cage with a pulley system attached to a gate, keeping a door blocked. When they put the bird in, the gate was lifted and they could enter the room. They scrambled in as one of the ladies swiped, narrowly missing them.
Luckily the room they found themselves in was empty of any monsters, at least for now. The banging on the door didn't bode well for that staying true. Will and Abigail kept an eye on the door waiting to see if it would bust open, or maybe they would just become bored and go away.
Once the pounding stopped, they started looking around. It was more cluttered than the others, having some bookcases and a couch weirdly enough. It was the same couch sculpture from the art gallery actually, though this time not blocked off. It was being treated like a normal couch. There was also a large painting on the back wall, taking up a good quarter of the space. Before Abigail could look at it closer, Will was already moving over to the bookcases.
He was pushing one of them to the right. She saw he was blocking a small window on the wall, looking out into the other room. Abigail had seen firsthand that those paintings could bust through windows with no problem, best to keep it blocked as best they could. Will gave the bookcase a good shove, making sure it was secure, and turned back to her. With that safe and in place, Abigail turned back to the painting.
It wasn't one from the main gallery, it just held two people. It seemed to be a portrait of a couple. It showed their full bodies, both wearing nothing special. They both seemed… so familiar. Abigail got closer, looking at the faces of the subjects.
They were her parents.
They were wearing the same outfits as before back in the gallery. She hadn't paid that much attention to them, saw no reason to on such a normal day. And now what, they’re in a painting? But how? Were they transformed? Was this a trick of the gallery? There's no way someone made a painting this big in such a short amount of time, it looks so realistic. She could even see the small scar on her dad's hand. It looked like they could just step right out of the canvas.
Abigail didn't know how long she looked. Only being pulled away when Will grabbed her shoulder. “Hey, what's wrong?” Abigail couldn't respond, didn't know what to say. She kept looking at the painting.
He looked finally, never moving his hand away from her shoulders. “Do you know these people?” Abigail nodded, something small and sharp. Will tightened his grip, giving something for her to ground herself with. “Are these people your parents, Abigail?” She felt herself sway into his side, taking the comfort he was offering gladly. That was enough of an answer for Will, keeping his strong hold on her shoulder and letting her take shelter in his side. She felt so small, so vulnerable. What was she afraid of? Was it the thought her parents were stuck in this hell scape along with her and Will? Was it the idea the gallery knew who her parents were?
Was the idea that her dad was here too more terrifying than the roaming paintings outside.
That's when the banging started up again. With no time to breath, they needed to run.
-!-
It was like a maze, twists and turns everywhere and no end in sight. She could hear scrapping and growling following behind. She could almost feel the woosh of air from the arms swiping, so close to touching her. She could hear him, too. He sounded so close.
“Abby, why’re you running? Where ya think you're going?”
Her dad, he was coming. She had to get out, to escape. Where was Will? He said he would protect her, where was he?!
“Abby! You can't run from me!” It sounded like he was right behind her, so close. Abigail ran around the next corner, finding herself now in a long hallway. She couldn't see the end of it, but what other choice did she have?
She could still hear the scraping, the growling, the voice. It didn't stop, and it didn't seem to go further away. So she kept running, trying to keep up the same speed. She can't go slower, she’ll be captured for sure!
She ran.
And ran.
Ran.
She didn't know for how long, but suddenly Abigail couldn't hear anything. It was quiet. No scrapes, no growls, no voice. Nothing. Just her heavy breathing and her pounding heart. Heavy, heavy silence.
She kept running though, not stupid enough to stop just because the danger might be gone. It's always silent right before the storm, that's what they say right? So she ran. Until she met a wall, running nearly face-first into it.
She began hitting it, hoping for a hidden door or just something. She couldn't stay here, he was so close! She had to keep going! Keep running! It was still silent, so maybe she had time? Maybe she really did lose him, maybe she was safe?
“Ah, there ya are Abby.”
No… No!
“NO!!” Abigail jolted herself awake, shooting up and trying to catch her breath. Trying to calm the shaking in her body. “Abigail!” Flinching, she turned to the voice expecting to see her father having finally caught up. But it was Will, stepping around from a bookcase. “Abigail, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He rushed over, falling to his knees by her side. Gave her a once over, keeping his hands to himself.
It was Will. Safe. She was safe with him.
Giving a heavy sigh, feeling the tension in her shoulder release, she looked around the room they were in. There were some bookcases, a large but simple painting on the wall, a water vase, and a journal. She hadn't seen one of those since she and Will met. That felt so long ago, even though it must have only been an hour or two.
“Abigail? You with me?” Will's voice pulled her back, his brow furrowed like it so often is. It formed a more concerned shape. He was worried. Abigail nodded, still not feeling up to using her voice. Will released his own breath, some of the worry slipping away. But not all of it.
“You dropped right as we got out of that awful room, I was worried you had been hurt. But it doesn't look like you dropped any petals, luckily. I still put it in the vase though, just to be safe.” Abigail looked back at the vase, and indeed her flower was still sitting in it. What about his, though?
Will moved to sit down instead of crouching, getting more comfortable next to Abigail. In arms reach but not touching, still waiting for her permission. Such a simple form of respect, one that she appreciated.
“Abby?” The nickname shot through her, freezing her in place. No one called her Abby, only him. Will notice right away, sitting up straighter. “No good? Sorry, I should have asked. I won't call you that, I promise.” She looked at him, giving a nod to show she understood and accepted the apology. Will nodded back, the concern still strong in his brows.
“Abigail, are you okay? That was a very scary situation we just got out of, and that painting… I can understand if you're feeling shaken.” Abigail thought about the question, wanting to be honest. The events that happened in the grey space, it was terrifying. They barely made it out, those ladies and mannequins had been right behind them. They were so much faster than they seemed. But that dream. That shook her more than any of the artwork had at this point.
She sat up, clearing her throat. “I… I had a nightmare.” Will keep his eyes on her, hearing every word. He nodded to indicate that he was listening, that she could continue if she wanted. Abigail did. “I was in this long, winding space. It felt like this gallery, giving that strange feeling that this place does. I was being chased, by the art most likely, but… but also…” She had never told anyone her fears about her father, she never felt that anyone would believe her. Or take her fear seriously. Who could be afraid of such a loving and doting father? One who seemed to care so much, almost too much. But they didn't know what he was capable of, not even her mom knew. But Abigail did.
Will reached his hand out, offering it. He didn't touch her still, but let the option be known if she needed it. She grabbed his hand hard, finding the feeling grounding. “It was my dad, He called me that nickname. No one else. The dream ended when he finally caught up.” Will squeezed her hand in little pulses. His eyes looked sad, most people would be when learning a person is afraid of their parents she guessed. But there was another emotion there she hadn't expected.
Rage seemed to simmer deep in his eyes, having gone almost steely. There was tension in his jaw too, sharpening the angles of his face. Why was he so mad? Had she said something? Was he mad at her?
Will looked down at their hands, giving them a small shake. “I grew up with my pa.” Abigale focused back on his face, giving him her full attention. Just had he had for her. “My ma left not too long after I was born. He wasn't a kind person, but he kept me housed, clothed, and fed the best he could working in random shipyards around the Louisiana coast.” He smiled as he continued on. “We moved around a lot, never being in one place for longer than a year. It meant I never had many friends growing up. And with the money he made we could only afford to live in these little trailers. Always near whatever dock my pa had work at. Once I got old enough, he had me working alongside him. To ‘earn my keep’, he'd say. When I could, I got out of that trailer and got myself into college. Didn't even say goodbye, just left. He never tried to reach out to me anyway.” Abigail squeezed his hand, hoping it gave him that sense of comfort he had offered her. He squeezed it back and carried on.
“I was told a lot by teachers and other adults in my life, that my pa was so good. That he worked so hard for me, that I could be more grateful cause a worse dad would have just thrown me out.” He snickered, a small and sad laugh. “I never saw the point in being grateful to be in a situation I had no control over. Yet that made me a ‘bad kid’. I know for sure now, that a parent's job is to be there for you.” He raised his head, looking Abigail in the eyes. “Parents are supposed to feed you, clothes you, house you. What makes a good parents and a bad parents, is if they can be your safe space. My dad was never that, and that made him a bad parent.” Abigale gave a shaky breath, not moving her eyes away from Wills. “You don't have to tell me why you're so afraid, cause that doesn't matter or change the fact that your dad is a bad parent. He may give you food and clothes and a room, he may even love you in his own way, but that doesn't make him a good parent. He makes you afraid, that's all I need to know. I'm sorry, no child should have to feel that way about a person who is supposed to be their greatest ally.”
Before she noticed the moisturizing gathering, Abigail felt tears rolling down her cheeks. No one had said that before. Had never seemed to understand her fear, and certainly no one ever validated those feelings. Hearing another person say out loud how she had always felt, it was nice.
As she cried, Will brought his other hand up and wiped her cheek. It barely did anything, the tears still pouring down, but it was another touch to ground her. He shuffled closer, pulling her head down onto his shoulder. They sat there in that room, silently, just breathing side by side. Abigail let herself cry it all out, all her fear and sadness, all her anger. She let it go. As Will sat next to her, being her pillar. Her support.
Maybe being in this gallery wasn't such a bad turn of events, if it brought her Will after all.