Chapter Text
It was only another week before Abigail was to head off to college in the neighboring city. It had been her dream to go since she was very young; wanting to get her master's in art history. But that dream slowly seemed to turn more and more into a fantasy as the time came closer.
There was no way her father would let her leave.
He had, so far, seemed just as excited for her continued adventure into adulthood. But Abigail could see the underlying messages behind his words of approval. His slowly growing mania about the whole thing, and near obsession with knowing every little detail about the campus and dormitories. Abigail knew what he was capable of, what he had trained her to be capable of.
Her mother had suggested a family outing. Wanting to do it before the rush of packing all of Abigail’s stuff. She’d heard about a small exhibit happening in the city, about an hour's drive from their home. Abigail had agreed very quickly to the trip. Feeling the need to escape from the house. It was starting to feel more and more like a prison she would never leave.
The family entered the gallery and were greeted at the door by a receptionist. An older man dressed in a standard tuxedo, looking a little like a penguin in black and white. He turned his head up, hearing the doors open and taking note of the new people coming in. “Good evening, welcome to the expedition of works by Guertena. We just need you to drop off bags and jackets here and also sign yourself in.” He gestured back to the closet behind the desk. “Then you may explore the works to your heart's content.” Abigail's mother quickly came up to the desk, getting them all signed in. “Come along you two, give the man your things.”
Abigail’s father looked defensive, but he followed his wife’s wishes and handed over his jacket. Abigail sighed in relief, knowing that if her father brought anything with him, it would be kept away for the duration of the trip and she could fully relax. Abigail gave her jacket and bag to the front desk as well. She kept her small handheld art kit though, wanting to do some sketches of the pieces. It fit in her cardigan pocket very well so she assumed they wouldn't mind her keeping it.
“Alright Abigail,” Her mother pulled her attention before she could walk off. “I know this is a family trip, but do feel free to look around without us. It seems to be a pretty small exhibit so if you need us it shouldn't be too hard to track us down.” The wording gave a small jolt to Abigail's system. No, she won't have any issues tracking them down. Her dad gave a small huff, also catching the double meaning of those words. “ Your father and I will start down here, but feel free to go off wherever.” Abigail gave her mother a nod, beginning to turn and head on in. Her father reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could get far.
Abigail froze stock still, not wanting to make any wrong moves. Even in a public setting, who knows what her father would do? “ Did you remember your watch, Abigail?” The question was so simple, that it took Abigail a moment to process it. Oh yes, her watch! Her parents had given it as a graduation gift. It was made of soft brown leather and had an elegant silver metal clock face. Abigail nodded, lifting her other arm to show it hiding under her cardigan sleeve. “Good, your mother wants to leave in time to get some dinner from that local pizza place. You know, the one you love so much. Be sure to find us around 3 if you don't seek us out beforehand.”
Once he was done speaking, he released her wrist taking a step back to be, once again standing by his wife. Abigail waited for her dismissal, not wanting to seem too eager to get away. “Alright kiddo, run along. I know how much you want to get some sketching in.” He seems to finally relax, smiling at her and giving the impression that he finds her behavior as cute as an impatient child waiting to be let loose in the park. Abigail didn't dare second guess the words, making a fast walk to the next room that held the beginning of the gallery.
She had never heard of the artist, looking to see if any plaques were talking about the exhibit. The first room held a huge painting of a parent figure seemingly yelling at a child playing the piano. The art leaned into more cubism with its big shapes and colors. It still very clearly told you what the subjects were, the colors offering an idea of the emotions behind the figures. It seemed to tell a clear story of anger and disappointment towards a child who no matter how hard they tried, wouldn't be able to achieve their parents’ wants. Abigail felt her own pull towards the child, knowing the feeling all too well.
Next to the painting was a big plague, seeming to explain the artist and their work. “Welcome to the world of Guertena, we truly thank you for attending today. We’re currently showcasing an exhibition on the works of the great artist Weiss Guertena. We hope you deeply enjoy the art of the late Guerttena, whose creations carry such mystery and beauty both.” It doesn't give much info, though it seems like the artist is no longer around. Abigail never heard of the name, must have been a more obscure artist. Maybe she will hear about him in a future class. Or, well... If she makes it there at least.
Abigail turns to take in the first room fully, noticing a crowd seeming to be looking at the floor. She walks over and finds a break amongst the people to see what is there. A giant painting was on the ground, of an ocean monster seeming to swim up toward the surface. The piece didn't look like it was on a canvas or anything. Looks like it was painted directly onto the ground. The blues of the water gave a depth, making it feel like you could dive in and swim to the very center of the world. However, Abigail wouldn't want to. If monsters like that were what occupied the waters, who knows what would happen once you dive in?
Looking around the piece, she sees another plaque and makes her way over to read it. “Abyss of the Deep. A world where man can never stand … To actualize that world, I decided to engrave it within the canvas.” Was this in the words of the artist? Interesting that even though he seemed unknown, they found some writing from him about his pieces. Maybe more of the art had similar words on why they existed.
Abigail continued her exploration, taking a minute or two to sketch some of her favorite pieces. Though the very first painting she found seemed to be painted in a cubism style, many of his works used different styles and techniques. Some were hyper-realistic, while others were surrealist. Placing subjects, and items, in landscapes that were just slightly off. She understood now why the plaque stated that his works were “mystery and beauty”. The last piece on the first floor that Abigail saw was a massive sculpture. It was a red rose, looking real in all its details. Almost felt out of place, where all the other pieces she saw seemed to tell intricate stories; this was just a rose. Though impressive in its size, it still felt like it was too simple for an artist like Guertena. Walking around it, Abigail looked once again for a plaque, finding it at its base on the right side. “Embodiment of Spirit. Beautiful at a glance, but should you get too close, it will induce pain. It blooms only in wholesome bodies” So it was supposed to represent the human soul? Abigail looked again, having to tilt her head slightly up now that she was closer. The thorns along the stem did seem sharp. And it's true, that humans can seem so soft and beautiful on the outside, but once known can cause great pain to those who get close. Abigail felt once again she could relate, finding many of the stories the art told to reflect her own life and experiences. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be as relaxing as she thought.
Shaking her head, it was time to check out the next floor. As Abigail walked back through the first room with the big painting on the floor, she saw her parents admiring the work. Her mother was smiling at it, obviously finding it awe-inspiring but probably not seeing anything deeper. Her father was looking within. He seemed to be looking past the monster and into the deep water below. He almost looked like he longed to be within the waves. Abigail knows he wouldn't want to be down there alone. She sped past, making sure to not attract their attention as she went to the stairs.
The next level seemed to have a more open floor plan, paintings all over the walls, and small squared-off sections with different sculptures. Once again, she walked around taking time to sketch out the pieces she liked, hoping to pull some of Guertena's techniques to use in future projects. She was putting the final line in one sketch when she bumped into a body. At first, thinking it's one of the mannequins wearing the brightly colored dress, Abigail quickly looks up. Only to see that she simply walked into another patron looking at one of the paintings, not even noticing her. She turned to see what held their attention so tightly and found a painting of a man being hung upside down by his foot. The work didn't seem to hold the detail of the many other paintings, but the man's face pulled one's eye. His eyes were shadowed over, giving the impression of lifelessness. His mouth partially opened in a silent scream and his cheeks sunken in. It was a simple look at death, simple but very effective. The patron that Abigail ran into was still looking deeply into the painting's eyes, so she continued on her way.
After doing a full circle of the floor, Abigail noticed another set of stairs. They were smaller, not seeming to lead up to another expansive floor of art. But they seemed to call to her. Curious, Abigail began to walk up. It didn't take long till she came to a single room. No bigger than the main receptionist area, and holding one painting. The work took up the entire back wall, seeming to be of a world full of color and some of the works she saw in the gallery. It almost seemed to be done in crayons, most likely oil pastels. The shapes did not have definitive outlines but still told the observer exactly what was within. Abigail even could see a version of the “Lady in Red '' seeming to be crawling off the walls of the world she'd been placed in. At the very bottom, a plaque was placed giving the work a name.
“ Fabricated World”.
Suddenly, the lights overhead flickered.
Abigail suddenly realized how long she had looked at the art, it had pulled her attention just as the painting of the hanging man pulled that one patron's attention. She looked down at her watch, seeing that the time was coming on to 2:50. Had they been in the gallery for hours already? Not wanting to be late to meet back up with her parents, and knowing that she had seen all that the gallery had to offer, Abigail started back down to the first floor assuming that her parents would be waiting by the receptionist.
Coming back to the second floor, she found it to be empty. Was the gallery closing? She hadn't looked at the hours of the showing, but it seemed a weird time to close up an art gallery. Now that she was more aware, the soft music that was playing throughout the trip was also off. The silence seemed to make the open floor plan more expansive and empty. Maybe because it was a small exhibit, they were only open for a short time each day, that's it. Abigail told herself that, trying to combat the growing panic in her stomach.
Continuing to the first floor, she retraced her steps back to the very front of the gallery. Just as the second floor was, the first floor was empty and deathly quiet. Even the receptionist was gone from the desk. Was the gallery closed? Had everyone already left? And where were her mother and father? They must be just outside, they wouldn't leave her at the gallery alone without telling her, right?
Abigail quickly walked to the front door. They must just be outside, that's all. Abigail grabbed hold of the pull bar of the door and pulled.
It didn't budge.
Maybe it was a push, she tended to forget small things like that. No need to panic. Abigail gripped the handle again and this time pushed.
Once again it didn't move.
Abigail was panicking now.
What was happening? Was she locked in? Had the gallery closed up, and forgotten she was still there? That didn't make sense! Her parents would have noticed her absence. Her father for sure would notice her not being present as they left. He was always so aware of where she was at all times, he wouldn't have left her here alone. He wouldn't!
Abigail started banging on the doors, hoping that her parents were at least outside. Maybe they hadn't thought the doors would be locked. Maybe they were waiting outside for her. They had to be. They had to!
“Mom! Dad! Are you out there?!” No one called back. “Mom! Dad! Please, I'm locked in! Please answer me!” Silence. “MOM! DAD!”
Abigail kept banging and shaking the door, yelling for her parents. At this point just wanting to have the comfort of knowing she's not alone.
The door stayed closed. No one answered her calls.
Abigail fell to the floor, exhausted from the yelling and putting all her strength into trying to open the door. She hadn't even noticed that she had started crying, only realizing when a wet drop fell to her hand from her cheek.
Abigail took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm her racing heart. The reality was that she was locked in the art gallery. At worst, she's there for the night. Most likely, her parents will notice she's missing by dinner time so she will only be here for an hour or two. She’s fine, she will be fine. No one is going to hurt her. She is safe, just a little stuck. That happens to people all the time, she can handle it too.
Having her breathing back under control, and no longer crying, Abigail took a look at her surroundings. She locks eyes with the receptionist’s desk. Maybe they have a phone behind it? She could try calling someone; her parents, or maybe even the police. Abigail gets up, legs shaking, and makes her way over.
It somehow feels illegal being behind the desk. Kids are always taught to never go back here, it's an employee zone only, but it was an emergency so Abigail pressed on. She looked around at the desk, seeming to have endless draws full of random stuff; Postcards and mini prints of different art pieces (from previous exhibits and the current one as well), pamphlets, blank paper, staplers and staples, and even rubber bands. After doing a thorough look-through, Abigail doesn't find a phone anywhere. Not even one that was forgotten by a guest.
Then Abigail recalled the closet where the receptionist stored all their jackets. She had given her bag which held her phone, that had to still be here! She turns around, finding the row of tall lockers. They didn't seem to have any locks on them, which meant Abigail could look as much as she needed to.
One by one she opens them, each showing to be empty. As she goes down the relatively short line, she feels her panic rising again. At the final locker, she takes a deep breath before opening it up. This must be the one, her stuff must be in there.
It's empty, just as the previous lockers had been.
Abigail exhales a shaky breath, feeling the tears rise. She shuts her eyes tight and aggressively shakes her head. No, she’s still fine. She isn't gonna be stuck here forever, just a couple of hours. Her parents will come back for her. She just needed to wait, that’s all. She can do that.
Abigail shivers, feeling cold from the rush of panic and sudden drop of emotions. She pulls her cardigan closer, pushing the sleeves past her palms when she notices her wrist feels lighter than before. She looks down at it and suddenly sees what is wrong. Her watch isn't there.
She whips around, looking all around behind the desk and around the lobby area. It's nowhere to be seen. Where is it? Did it fall when she was exploring? No, she had just looked at her watch before leaving the small room with the painting. Did it fall off as she was rushing to get downstairs? She was pretty distracted then, maybe it was upstairs? Well, she had a couple of hours to kill, nothing was stopping her from looking.
Taking another deep breath, Abigail left the safe bubble of the receptionist's desk and moved to the second floor. The continued emptiness and silence gave the space a feeling of danger. Like something was just around the corner. Or even like something was just behind her. Abigail clenched her hands, letting the bite of nails to her palms center her. She needed to find her watch.
She looked around the piece “Death of the Individual”, not finding the watch there. It wasn't near the painting of the hanging man either. She started towards the small steps towards that one big painting. Maybe it's up there?
She made it back to the painting, it felt even larger now. Dragging her eyes down, she saw what she was hunting for. Her watch!
She bent to grab it when she noticed what looked like blue paint dripping from behind the canvas. Was the painting covering up another painting? It was pretty big, maybe the gallery had accidentally stacked them without noticing. Or was it maybe part of the painting? Some of Guertena's work did come out of their canvases, maybe this was the same. She had to know. She had to feel it, see if it was dripping from behind the piece, or just another aspect of the art.
Abigail reached, acting as if someone would see her breaking the cardinal sin of touching a painting at any second. Art usually had security sensors on them, right? Maybe this was her way of getting at least the authorities to get her out.
She touched it, feeling the slimy texture of the, very much, wet paint. Well, that's a question answered. Abigail didn't get the chance to feel satisfied by her discovery before she noticed that behind the paint seemed to be writing.
Someone had written on the wall in blue ink, or is that crayon? Abigail didn't think before wiping the paint out of the way to see the hidden message. Once visible, Abigail processed the word in front of her.
“I'll show you a secret spot”
A secret spot? Did a kid write this? Abigail did see a young child looking at one of the sculptures. Were they stuck in here too? Abigail scrunched her face in confusion. She got what she came for, could just go back to the lobby, and…
There was writing on the floor.
When had there been writing on the floor? Has it always been there? There was no way, she had been looking at the ground trying to find her watch! Has someone followed her up here and written it just now? Maybe that kid is stuck here too and was trying to prank her. She read the words;
“ COME ABIGAIL”...
Abigail bolted.
She ran back to the lobby, she had to get out!
As she ran, she saw bright blue footprints on the ground. It must be the person responsible for the writing! Abigail's panic suddenly shifted to rage. How dare this person try to scare her, she's had enough! Her father's teaching took over her mind as she became the predator he had worked so hard to make her into. She followed the footprints like she was tracking a deer or the prey her father liked the most.
She silently made it back to the first floor and saw that the prints headed into the room containing the big floor paint. “Abyss of the Deep”. Maybe that's where they got the blue paint from?
She entered the room but saw no one inside. The paint seemed undisturbed as well, didn't seem like anyone scooped up any of it to make scary messages. But then she followed the remaining footprints to see where they led. They seemed to end right at the top of the painting, the toes pointing directly at the piece. It almost looked like they had stepped right in, or maybe dived.
Abigail walked over, even the barricade that had blocked guests from getting too close to the piece was gone in one spot, right where the final prints were.
She matched her own feet to the shapes left behind, looking down at the painting, looking within it. It did look like you could just step in, and sink deep, deep into the dark blue waters. Abigail still thought that the monster made the water too scary to explore, but she suddenly could also understand her father's feelings towards the piece. The longing in his eyes. Like the deep water was a safe space, a sanctuary. Abigail suddenly longed for that safety as well. A place where she could be free from the suffocating anxiety and panic she felt daily, free from the pressures of the world and all the expectations it had for her. Free from her father and his oppressive love.
Abigail took a final look into the eyes of the creature seeming to come to the surface, it looked like it was calling her to join it.
Abigail stepped forward, beginning to sink.