6 Olivia
April 4th, 2022
I hated April Fool’s Day. Steven always used it as an excuse to play the most cruel and outlandish pranks on me.
I still felt the effects of it days later. I was on edge and irritated. I was tired from not sleeping last night. I certainly wasn’t up for going to The Club today, but as usual, I didn’t have a choice.
I followed after him from where the cab had dropped us off a block away. I kept my distance, although he really didn’t give me much of a choice with how fast he was walking.
I was a pretty fast walker myself, but he was practically running. Why? I wasn’t sure. Something seemed off about him today and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Even so, the only thing that truly caught my interest today was the new poster that had been hung up in front of The Club.
I could just barely make the woman out, surrounded by blacks and purples, neon greens. I itched to see it, to maybe take it down and keep it, maybe hang it up on the wall with my other artworks. She would be a great inspiration for my story, I was sure of it.
But as soon as Steven saw it, he walked over and ripped it down as if it were his primal instinct to make me miserable.
I flinched at the sound of tearing paper, watching with a blank expression as he ripped it to shreds and tossed it to the ground. “Dyke bitch,”
he muttered and stormed for the door.
I swallowed, watching impassively as the pieces of paper drifted in the cool breeze, the edges of my dress lifting with them.
It felt like a metaphor somehow, I just couldn’t find the right words to explain it.
He opened the door and walked in; the door swinging shut behind him unforgivingly. I only just managed to catch it before it sealed shut behind him.
I rolled my eyes and shoved it open, walking in after him, watching as he stalked across the room and disappeared behind that curtain without so much as a glance back.
Whatever happened in the back today would certainly come back on me, that much was clear.
It was fine, I was strong enough to handle it. What I wasn’t strong enough to do was walk away from all of…of this. Why couldn’t I do it?
I wish I could just…just go, but it was as if Steven had some sort of invisible shackle around me, keeping me here.
I sent a quick glance around the room, finding the same three patrons as usual before I headed for my regular spot. “Double,”
I told Jake as I smoothed out my dress and took a seat.
He set a glass down, studying me. “Hard day?”
I folded one leg over the other. “Yeah,”
I said, watching the liquid fall into the glass. He set the scotch to the side and filled the rest with Dr. Pepper, the popping bubbles causing my mouth to water.
I took the glass and drank half of it, wincing at the bitter flavor. I shuddered and ran my tongue over my lips. “You should order some better stuff.”
“Tell me about it,”
he muttered, leaning over the counter. “The boss won’t allow it. Something about getting ‘too popular’. Can’t attract too many people.”
I gave him a look. “It’s an exclusive club. Just lock the door.”
Jake smiled, his eyes shining. “That’s what I said.”
He folded his arms across the bar and leaned in a little more, searching my eyes. “Why are you having a hard day?”
I searched his, wondering if it was even worth talking about. But who else did I have to talk to? I didn’t have to tell him anything personal, I could talk just to have an adult conversation with someone who wouldn’t make me feel like shit. Plus, he was always flirting a little with me. Always inching closer. It’d be nice to feel wanted, even if it was just for a second. Even if it was just for a breath. “Why do boys like playing such mean pranks on April Fool’s Day?”
I dared ask as I ran my finger along the rim of the glass absentmindedly.
“Because they’re boys,”
he replied, his gaze flicking down only to find my eyes again, causing my stomach to warm. “What kind of mean pranks?”
He kept ‘making me flinch’. Throwing his fist towards me with everything he was just to stop in front of my face and yell ‘April Fool’s!’
He put a little bleach in the jug of milk I had just bought.
He replaced my creamer with cottage cheese.
He ground up mealworms and sprinkled them over my leftover sushi.
He drugged my dog.
He put Noir in my shampoo bottle which would have been disastrous had I not caught the smell beforehand.
All of this just three days ago. All of it in just one day. One horrendous, long day.
“Nothing,”
I told him and finished the glass. “Another.”
I knew it was wrong, I didn’t need someone else telling me that. I was also rational enough to know what people would say if they heard about what he did, but what they didn’t know about were the good moments. There were still good moments. Not many, but when they happened, they were so very good. Was that why I didn’t leave? Because of the morsels he still gave me from time to time?
How pathetic was that?
Jake watched me for a few seconds before nodding and straightening, pouring me a second glass. “How is that book going?”
“Scrapped it and started another,”
I said truthfully. “This one is about a serial killer.”
It was only a partial lie. I did start a new one, but the first one was still saved on my computer too. I couldn’t bring myself to scrap it just yet.
He rose a brow, finishing the new glass off. “Oh? That’s a far cry from ‘twin flames’.”
I shrugged, pulling the glass closer. Love was overrated. What I needed was to blow off steam in the way of massacres and forbidden sex.
“Do you have any guesses as to who the serial killer is yet?”
Jake asked, leaning against the bar.
The door to The Club opened and I glanced over long enough to register who it was before I turned back, every muscle in my body tightening. Dammit. “I have a pretty good guess, yeah.”
I was hoping I wouldn’t see him today. I didn’t need anything else to fuel my delusions. Because that’s what they were. Delusions fueled by my overactive imagination, just like Steven had said. He wasn’t actually following me, it was just my mind playing tricks.
Jake glanced his way before turning back to me. “Let me guess, the main character?”
“It switches between he and the woman,”
I said, lowering my voice. I didn’t want to talk about it. Not when I was still contemplating if the guy I based the main character off of was actually a serial killer.
But what were the chances I would meet one in real life? Especially just right off the street? Incredibly slim if there was any chance at all.
He was just some creep.
Some really good-looking creep who I was having delusions about. God, I needed some sleep.
His eyebrows lifted. “Last time you were here, you said something about a rom-con. Don’t tell me she falls for the guy who’s going to kill her.”
I swallowed, pulling my glass closer. “It’s hard not to fall for someone who acts that obsessed with you. Even if they are a terrible person.”
He straightened, disbelief in his eyes. “You’re telling me that if Ted Bundy walked in here and said the right things, you’d let him rail you?”
My cheeks warmed, the man’s eyes burning across my bare shoulders. “There’s a reason he was so prolific,”
I said under my breath, giving him a warning look. “I’m not saying women aren’t crazy, I’m saying that there’s a reason we fall for that bullshit.”
“You would?”
“I wr—read the books,”
I explained carefully. “I get my rocks off that way. Can you lower your voice?”
He glanced around The Club. “You don’t want people knowing you read serial killer romances?”
I leaned into the bar, trying to get closer to him, my hardened gaze unwavering. “I don’t need the world thinking that their crazy will get their dick sucked. Because it won’t. We go to books because it’s safe. We’re not stupid enough to think that we can earn the respect and the obsession of a psychotic crazy person without getting ourselves brutally murdered,”
I said under my breath. “I’ll keep reading my books and you keep drying those glasses like some compulsive dick who believes you can dry the shine right off.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and ripped the towel off of his shoulder with a purpose. “I can.”
I sat back, glaring after him as he went to greet the man in the mask sitting a few stools down from me.
I rolled my eyes and turned back towards the curtain. Nobody understood discretion anymore.
I couldn’t hear a sound from beyond the worn fabric, I never could.
What happened back there? Who was back there? Was there another part of the bar just for those with secret lives?
With a quiet breath, I turned back to my glass and took a drink, the warmth of the alcohol settling in my bones. I pulled out my phone and pulled up another book I was reading only to close it out when I remembered where I had been before closing it out last.
Interrupted in the middle of a scene that had gotten me so worked up, I had to deal with it right there on my couch.
No way was I going to start reading that here with Jake constantly hanging over my shoulder.
As if on cue, he reappeared. “So, you don’t like pranks and you like reading weird books, what else?”
I lifted my eyes, brows furrowing. “What else what?”
A small smile tilted one corner of his lips up. “What else? Who is Olivia Rose?”
I straightened, eyeing him. “I’ve been coming here for a few weeks and you’re finally asking about me?”
He shrugged. “You always talk about your books. You order the same thing every time you come here. Oh, you like wearing dresses.”
I frowned, pulling at the bottom of my dress to make sure my legs were covered. I didn’t like that he was paying that much attention. “Your observations skills surpass most in this city,”
I stated blandly. “Why do you want to know more?”
Another shrug as he leaned over the counter. “Maybe I think you’re better off without that guy,”
he nodded towards the curtain. “Maybe I just want to get to know a pretty lady.”
I studied him carefully, my heart fluttering. Butterflies, they had told me when I was younger. Later I learned that it was just anxiety, but butterflies made it sound romantic. Made it sound like we should do everything in our power to pursue that feeling.
Nope, just anxiety. Plain as day. But, I suppose, it was good anxiety, because I never felt them with Steven anymore. Not in any situation.
Was there good anxiety? If there was, butterflies had to be classified as good anxiety, right?
And anyways, Jake was kind, and what was the harm in letting him flirt a little? It was more than what Steven did these days. All he wanted was to get himself off and move on. I had to take care of my own self after he left, which was fine. From my very limited experience, there weren’t many guys out there who could get a woman off anyway.
Or maybe there was just something wrong with me and physically being with a guy just didn’t do it for me.
Who knows?
Not me.
I ran my tongue over my lips and straightened. “I recently gave up coffee,”
I told him.
He rose a brow, his eyes flicking to my lips and back. “Oh? Why is that?”
“Bad side-effects,”
I said easily. “I like sushi.”
His face twisted. “Do you know how far we are from the ocean?”
I frowned. “I said I liked it. I didn’t say it was safe to eat. I go on runs.”
He smiled brightly then, his eyes shining. “Maniac,”
he said, straightening just enough to lean over the counter a little more, and I found myself drifting towards him. “Training for that serial killer?”
“Gotta stay in shape,”
I replied with a shrug. “Although I don’t know what good it would do if they broke in, seeing as how I live on the sixth floor.”
He gasped. “A successful woman like you living on the sixth floor? Blasphemous.”
I rolled my eyes, a smile touching my lips. “Modesty is an attribute.”
He was right though, even if he didn’t realize exactly how successful I was, but it was the first place I had found available when I had moved to the city. I wasn’t picky at the time, I just took what I could find first. It was a nice place though. Beautiful. Brand new when I moved in. It was enough.
He chuckled and flicked my nose, which caused my cheeks to warm and my eyes to widen in slight shock. “A good one,”
he told me just as a hand appeared out of nowhere and ripped my drink from my hand.
I gasped, heart racing, head whipping around to see Steven gulp down my drink and set the glass down. “I need whatever money you have in your wallet,”
he told me glancing to Jake and back.
Fuck, he had seen that. He had seen Jake flicking my nose as if we were old friends. I could see the chill in his eyes, the hatred. The betrayal.
He was right. His anger was not misplaced. I deserved it. I deserved whatever punishment I got from it.
I nodded numbly and fumbled for the wallet in my purse. I fished out whatever was in it. I had no idea how much I had, I tried not to carry cash around.
He took the bills from my hand and counted them out. A few hundreds, I think.
Steven nodded, grabbed my jaw, and pressed his lips against mine violently. His tongue assaulted me, spit dripping from his mouth into mine, forcing me to hold back the gag I felt as it slid over my lips and across my tongue.
After a few seconds, he pulled back and shot a glare at Jake before heading back to the curtain.
I felt humiliated as I turned back and picked up the napkin, wiping my lips. My head spun, and my skin felt red hot, and without looking at Jake, I tapped the rim of my glass, letting my hair fall around my shoulders, covering my face. I was going to throw up. I could feel the bile creeping up the back of my throat. I needed that drink. I needed four of those drinks. Eight. I didn’t care. Anything to erase that taste from my mouth.
The drink appeared in front of me a moment later and I gulped it down, nearly choking on it as I willed the feeling of his spit out of my mouth. The alcohol hit almost immediately this time, a warmth spreading over my body, my limbs tingling.
I set the empty glass down and tapped it again.
“Liv—”
I tapped the glass, meeting his eyes with a glare.
He watched me for a second, something like pity in his eyes before he started making me another.
While he was making it, I pulled up a blank note on my phone and labeled it ‘Scene’.
It wasn’t peaceful and mysterious like cigarette smoke at midnight, drifting in coils across the bright neon signs as the world grew cold and quiet. It wasn’t loud and chaotic like a train tearing down the tracks, blasting its horn for all to hear.
No, it was silent, quick. A life stolen in the midst of the night in an alley far from here. A body disappearing without a trace. No evidence, no anything. Just gone. Easy, painless.
Maybe not quite painless. There was somebody out there who would notice the absence. Notice the light going out, but it didn’t matter.
The life was taken.
The body gone.
And he got away with it like he always did.
His silver-blue eyes glinting like fallen stars in the midnight sky. Pride wasn’t the word I would use. He didn’t care. He knew he would get away with it. He knew nobody would catch him. He knew there would be no repercussions to the life he had stolen.
It wasn’t pride, it was something much darker and much deeper.
And those eyes were staring right at me now. Because there was someone in this world who would know that this life was taken.
Me.
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It seemed like I always was. I saw him take the life, I saw him clean it up. I saw him make sure there was no evidence left behind. I stayed and watched the whole thing until it was just me and just him, standing in an alley in the dark city in the middle of the night.
I should run.
I needed to run.
But all I wanted to do was lean in closer—
“Hey.”
I flinched on instinct, turning my phone away and I looked up to find a stranger standing just beside me.
My brows furrowed, my mind slowly working. He had said something, I was sure of it. “Sorry, what?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have gulped that drink down so quickly, my mind was slowing.
He gestured to the seat. “This taken?”
There were only five people here. No, that spot wasn’t taken, but there were also other spots open. But before I could stumble out a response, the man in the mask slid into that very seat, sliding his glass over with ease. “Yes,”
he said, his shin knocking against my foot.
I pulled it in tighter, my heart slamming as I quickly turned back to my drink, my entire body going stiff. This couldn’t be happening.
I was imagining it.
His scent drifted over, teasing my nose with a beautiful mixture of light rain and pine trees. Woodsy. Fresh. Like the time my dad had taken me hiking when I was a girl just to get away from the bright flashes of the camera lights. The one and only time we had managed to get away. I never got to go back to that trail, not once.
My eyes flicked up to Jake who gave me a look before following the new patron to his seat. “Please, for the love of God, don’t leave me,”
I thought towards him.
But, of course, he was already gone.
I swallowed and locked my phone. There was no way I was going to keep writing with this man sitting right on top of me.
I wrapped my hand around my glass and glanced back towards the curtain, my mind buzzing with the alcohol. This was just perfect. I closed my eyes and let the cool glass bite into my hand while the warmth of the too close body seared the right side of me. I felt like I was sweating. Was I sweating?
I shivered involuntarily, my skin flooding with goosebumps, pebbling my nipples, causing me to hunch over just to hide them. I didn’t need another reason for anyone to look at me.
But after a moment, I felt his body shift, leaning into me until his hot breath shifted the hair off my shoulder, causing another flood of shivers to fall across my body. “Don’t worry, Abigail,”
he hummed like death singing his songs of endlessness, “He won’t see it when I steal you away. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. Another light, snuffed out.”
My lips parted, my thighs clenching, my entire body tensing at his words. The buzzing started in my head and fell right between my thighs. And why wouldn’t I get turned on by something like that? I had only been reading about it, writing about it, for years.
I swallowed, my heart racing as my hands tightened around my cup. He was right. Steven would never notice my absence. Not even a little. Nobody would. I would just disappear. Poof.
But this man, this…this…idiot was only saying that because he heard the conversation Jake and I had. This wasn’t real. He was the kind of guy that thought I’d suck him off if he proved he was just like those men in the books. Absolutely not.
No. And I prayed this little display of his would keep me from having weird delusions about him again because it was disgusting. Absolutely horrific.
I sneered and met his eyes, steeling myself even when those silver-blue eyes of his glinted in sick delight behind that stupid mask. “You don’t have a chance with someone like me,”
I bit back, allowing a bit of that rage I always swallowed back out for a change, despite the sweat dripping down my spine. “And I don’t know where you got that name, but it’s not me.”
I slid off the stool, quickly fixing my dress, and finished off my drink just as Steven walked out of the backroom. Thank God, for once, because if he hadn’t, I would have had to walk out of here alone.
I turned to face him, my face falling when I saw what they had done to him.
Black eye, split lip, cut above his eye, and he was favoring his left side. I hadn’t seen it before because I had been too focused on what he might have seen to care about what he looked like.
This was just perfect.
His anger-filled eyes met mine. “Let’s go.”
I nodded, not sparing anyone in the room another glance as I followed him towards the door.
“Woof woof,”
I heard the masked man hum as I passed him.
I clenched my hands at my sides, my insides shaking in fear. He was just some creep in a bar, he didn’t know anything about me. The Abigail thing caught me off-guard, sure, but other than that, what did he know? That I lived on the sixth floor somewhere in Colorado Springs? There were over 800,000 people in this city. He would never find me again unless I came back here, and in that case, I was safe with Jake.
I was fine.
But as I stepped through the door, I found myself glancing back, only for my breath to catch and my eyes to widen when I caught him staring right at me.
I quickly turned away, feeling irritation and fear thrum through me. Was it all in my head? It couldn’t have been. He called me Abigail. I had heard it. He knew enough about me to know that.
What else did he know? And why? Did it have something to do with Steven? It had to. He must have worked for whoever was in the back with Steven. What was he doing? Scouting me out? Trying to see what I knew?
My eyes widened as I stepped outside. He knew my pen name. Which meant he knew I had money. Was that what this was about? Money? Steven couldn’t pay them, so they were sending a guy after me?
What. The. Fuck.
My eyes lifted to Steven, but by the way he was walking, his footfalls heavier than usual, his shoulders tense, his hands gripped at his side, there was no way I could talk to him about this now. I had to wait.
Was I going behind the tattered curtain next? Goddammit.
April 18th, 2022
I sat cross-legged in front of the mirror. My leg didn’t hurt anymore, and I could move my fingers without too much pain now, which helped in only one regard: getting enough makeup on my face to cover up the evidence.
My music played in the background as I hummed, and worked meticulously at covering up what Steven had left the day we left The Club.
He had taken me back to his place and beat the shit out of me. Then he apologized and fucked me while explaining in kind words that I needed to know how he felt so I could help him heal. That I shouldn’t have pushed him to this point. That I should have helped ease his pain.
He told me that if they came after me, that was just the kind of sacrifice that ‘good girls’ did for their men. That I had to be a ‘good girl’. Prove to him that I was worthy of him. Take the hit if I needed, tell them I wasn’t worth anything, and move on.
But I was worth millions, and they knew that. They were finding that out, which meant he would too.
It also meant that the man was real, and he very well could be following me, but I prayed it wasn’t true. I prayed they were delusions. I needed them to be delusions.
Steven had bought me enough makeup from the drug store to cover me up until I was able to get home late last night. I fell asleep in it, took a long shower this morning, went through an extensive skin care routine, and now here I was, sitting in my bedroom, with my nose less than two feet from my mirror, putting on more makeup because I wanted to go out. I needed to go out. I hadn’t written anything in days, and I was getting concerned texts from Katie but fuck, I had to get out of the house.
Lucy sat behind me, watching me carefully, her ears back as if she knew what had happened.
She had to have known.
I had to pay to have someone come by and take care of her while I was at Steven’s. Take her on walks and feed her. She was probably bitter. “Do you want to go on a walk?”
One ear lifted, her tail tapping once.
I offered a small smile. “I can’t run today, but we can take an extra-long walk, eh?”
She watched me for a long time before huffing, getting up, and going out to the living area.
I watched after her, tracking her with my eyes as she walked over to the hooks beside the door and sat down, waiting.
Yeah, she was definitely mad at me, but a walk would do us both some good.
I finished up at the mirror and stood. I pulled on some black leggings, a bright pink sports bra, and a thin white jacket before pulling my hair up and heading out.
By the time we reached the bottom floor, Lucy’s mood had shifted, and I was relieved. I hated when she was angry with me. Everyone else in this world was always so disappointed in me, I couldn’t handle it coming from her too.
I slid my headphones on, and we headed for the park, the music sliding through me as I let my mind wander to my book. I needed so many more ideas. I owed Katie two chapters now, due in five days. A minimum of 10,000 words. Even thinking about it stressed me out.
But what was I going to write? I had a few different scene ideas, but none seemed to fit in at this point in the story.
Maybe I should just quit and find another passion.
Extreme, but what was this life if not chaotic moments of extreme decisions made out of reckless abandon?
Made things interesting.
We made it to the park and headed down the trail, my mind so far away, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Not even a little bit. I needed to figure out what would come next in the book, or I needed to find something else to occupy my time.
I loved art. I had a Van Gogh in my place. A replica, of course, but one all the same. I loved paintings from the French Renaissance. They were always so elegant and filled with such tragedy. Maybe I would make a trip to the museum soon. That would give me plenty of inspiration, I was sure of it.
I felt a hand slide around to my stomach, a body pressing against mine.
My heart skipped a beat, a flutter of fear spreading through my core as I fell against the stranger.
I was too shocked to move as he moved my headphone from my ear and leaned in until his breath whispered against the shell of my ear. “Hello, little writer,”
the familiar voice sang just before a prick pained the side of my neck.
My eyes fell to my dog who was just standing there, staring at me. What was she doing? She was supposed to protect me! “Atta…”