15. Olive

15

OLIVE

T ears blur my vision as I scrub at the carpet with a brush I found beneath Alik’s kitchen sink. The water inside the mop bucket is tinged a deep enough red that when I dunk the brush, blood clings to the bristles.

I’ve already changed the water twice.

My chest shakes with a sob as I carry the water to the bathtub and dump it down the drain, the bucket nearly slipping from my trembling hands.

After refilling the bucket, I return to the huge stain on the carpet and get back to work cleaning up the mystery mess I’ve made. I don’t know whose blood this is, but I know I’m the one who’s responsible for it being shed.

When I woke up in Alik’s bed, the sun shone bright through his window, and I stretched my arms in search of him. Sweet ignorance wrapped me in bliss for all of two minutes while I pulled on my clothes and went out to find Alik, stopping dead when I found the large oval of fresh blood on the carpet instead. Beside it was a note scribbled on the back of a discarded envelope in my handwriting, my thoughtful calling card to myself that read, Calm down. It isn’t his. Clean it up before he gets back.

I fell asleep. How could I have fallen asleep?

I could’ve hurt him. I could’ve killed him.

How could I do this?

I sob harder as my arms scrub at the carpet with more vigor, panic fueling my movements. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get all the blood out, but even if I do, the carpet will still be damp. How will I explain that to Alik?

Who did I kill?

What if he finds out about it?

What if it was someone he cared about?

“Please,” I beg to whatever being will listen. Please don’t let this be as bad as it seems .

The front door clicks as someone unlocks it, and I snap my head up to peer at it. Tossing the brush on the floor, I hop in front of the stain as if I could possibly hide it.

Alik appears as the door opens, flicking a glare my way before shutting and locking it.

A glare? Did I see that right?

I wipe my tears on my shoulders then face him, my heart knocking against my chest. “H-hey,” I say as he comes up to me, his face as hard as I’ve ever seen it. I look behind me at the stain. The very obvious, indiscreet stain. “D-don’t be mad.” I face him. “I was drinking wine straight from the bottle, and it just … slipped right through my hand. But I-I’ll get the stain out, don’t worry. I’m clumsy, so I’ve had practice.” I try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as I feel.

He doesn’t return it. Doesn’t even quirk his lips. “I’m sure you have.”

I let only a second go by before my eyes lower. I can’t look at him when he’s like this. Last night… Last night, he looked at me like I was something to cherish. He looked at me like I’ve only ever seen in my dreams.

Now he’s looking at me the same way my mother does. With contempt.

“Y-you must be Olive,” he mocks, shoving a knife into my chest.

I close my eyes and try not to cry. Something clearly happened between us. And it was my fault. It’s always my fault.

I fell asleep.

“What does that mean?” I whisper.

Seconds pass before I finally look up at him. His arms are crossed as he studies me.

“Do you really not know?”

Not know what?

That I must be Olive?

My brows pinch with confusion, and I open my mouth before I can figure out what to say. I clear my throat and stand so we’re on the same level. “Listen… I am so sorry for whatever it is that I might have done since I fell asleep. I tried to tell you, sometimes I sleepwalk and even talk in my sleep, and it can be really freaky. If I said things?—”

“You don’t remember a fucking thing, do you?” His jaw is dropped, and his arms slowly uncross.

Biting my lip, I shake my head.

“You’re insane.”

“I…” My eyes flood with tears as I wrap my arms around myself. “I’ve been under a lot of stress, and sometimes when that happens?—”

“You murdered the lady down the hall who always wears the purple lipstick.”

Mrs. Barkley .

I clamp my eyes shut and cover my mouth.

“Stabbed her four times in the stomach because she called you a slut. That’s whose blood you’re cleaning up, in case you truly don’t know and aren’t just fucking with me.”

No .

No, no, no.

A sob crawls up my throat, and I fall to my knees, my feet landing in my neighbor’s blood. She was a mean old woman, but unlike Alik, she returned my Tupperware I put her brownies in.

And she didn’t deserve to die.

Alik’s retreating footsteps are followed by the fridge door opening. I ignore him as I turn around and force my eyes to open. I touch the red, wet carpet while my chest heaves with sobs.

When Alik approaches, I don’t acknowledge him. I don’t know what I did to him, but right now, he isn’t the one who most deserves my remorse.

“Olive,” he says, bending down and planting a hand on my shoulder.

I jerk away from his touch. “Don’t touch me,” I sneer between sobs. “You obviously don’t care about this woman, but I do. So just leave me alone.”

“ What? ” He laughs incredulously. “ I don’t care about her?”

I whirl around to face him, my teeth bared. “You should’ve stopped it! You’re twice my size and several times as strong. You could’ve easily disarmed me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault you went American Psycho on Purple Lips?” He scoffs. “I don’t know which version of you is crazier.”

“Her name was Mrs. Barkley,” I say, tears streaming down my face.

He stares at me with condemnation a few more seconds before his expression relaxes, and he flicks his eyes over my cheeks. His hand reaches out to brush away tears, only for more to replace them moments later.

“Okay.” He nods, caressing my jaw. “You’re regretful. I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” I shake my head. My stomach twists into knots then pulls taut, yanking me forward in agony.

How many times is this going to happen?

How many times will I wake up next to someone I hurt?

How long before that person is Alik?

I can’t do this anymore.

I can’t do it to him.

I’d rather die than do it to him.

“This isn’t the first time it’s happened,” I say, remembering Damian’s dead eyes. I woke up in his bed then rolled over, as I had this morning, except that time, I felt a body. He was wet with blood, and when I opened my eyes to see his throat slashed, I let out a blood-curdling scream that woke our neighbors.

I’d had so many drugs in my system that the police assumed I’d been passed out through his murder. No one suspected me, other than my family. I was questioned at the scene then never again.

But I knew. The moment I saw him, I knew it was me.

There’d been signs. A drawing of him in my sketchbook with his throat slashed, screenshots sent from his phone to mine, showing his messages with Creeper.

My relationship with Creeper started out with Damian wanting me to sleep with Creeper for free hits. It progressed from there, even though my heart was still with Damian, but the messages showed just how much the two men saw me as property. I knew I’d been the one to go through his phone and send those messages to myself, but I didn’t heed my own warning and leave. I stayed with him. And it cost him his life.

I can’t do that to Alik. I can’t do that to anyone ever again.

“It can’t happen ever again,” I whisper, my voice shaking. I take Alik’s hand and bite down hard on my quivering lip until I can find it in myself to speak the words that must be said. “You have to kill me.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I murdered my last boyfriend.” My ears grate, hearing the admittance, but I keep going. I have to. “If you don’t kill me first, you’ll be next.”

Alik is quiet for a minute, and I think maybe he’s thinking about it when he runs his hand down a lock of my hair. “You know, I think your alter was smart enough to consider you might say that.”

The sobs beating my chest ease. “Alter?”

Alik nods. “I’m not a psychiatrist, but yeah. I’m gonna go ahead and say you have an alternate personality. You must know about her.”

“Her?” I pick at my nails. “What are you talking about? You mean me when I’m being weird?”

He tilts his head and stares at me for several seconds while my skin crawls. “How do you think you act when you’re ‘weird?’”

How do I act?

I kill people.

What more is there to say?

“Violent,” I settle with after thinking for a minute.

He nods slowly. “Is that all? Do you know anything else about yourself when you’re in that state?”

Anything else?

I think about it…

No. All I’ve ever done is ruin my life and the lives of the people I love. I only know I have a “state” because I can’t remember the things that I’ve done. My dad believes that I have blackouts. My mother isn’t convinced I’m not just making up my memory loss. I’m not sure what my siblings think, but everyone agrees with Alik that I’m insane.

“No. I don’t have any memory of what happens when I blackout, but sometimes I leave myself clues or wake up to…” I motion down to the bloodied carpet.

“You’re an entirely different person,” he says, lowering to sit on the floor with me. He must’ve gotten a beer from the fridge that he sets beside himself. “As in, you insist that you aren’t Olive. You walk differently, talk differently, think differently. You’re unhinged, but not in the way that I think you’re imagining. Your other personality is intelligent and in complete control of her behavior. I don’t believe my life is currently in danger, but she’s made it so I can’t kill you. Even if you beg me.”

I move my eyes to the beer bottle while I try to process what he’s telling me.

I’m not manic when I do these things. I’m not even me.

It makes sense, in a way. I shouldn’t be surprised. It always felt like I was warning myself. Nothing has really changed, just… I’m a little crazier than I thought.

“How did she make it so you can’t kill me?”

“She planted evidence in both of our apartments pointing to me as your killer, just in case you went missing. Unsent letters addressed to your mother about me, journal entries detailing our abusive relationship, bloody panties hidden in my apartment, that sort of thing. I’m sure there’s more. She’s … clever. Can you think of any place in your apartment she might have hidden that stuff?”

I consider it for a moment, but my mind wanders to the more obvious solution. I scratch at my arms. “My family knows about my violent streak. If we go to them and tell them all of this, they can have me committed. If anything were to ever happen to me, the evidence that um … she … planted won’t hold up. I promise. I can even make a video to?—”

“No.”

I close my mouth and wait for him to go on, my hands pausing on my arms.

“She isn’t just framing me for your murder. She’s been stalking me for months and has photos of me committing crimes.”

The room starts to shrink, along with my lungs, and when I try to take in a breath, I feel like my airways are as thin as needles.

“That’s not possible,” I say, my head dizzy. “My medication was working up until the night you came to my apartment. I hadn’t had a blackout in a year.”

“How do you know?”

I close my eyes and try to breathe.

How do I know?

I hadn’t woken up next to dead bodies. Or in the wrong clothes. Or with my hair smelling like smoke. There haven’t been any clues left.

But she was there, all that time.

What kind of damage has she been doing?

“I think she was hiding from you,” Alik says, the slightest bit of pity in his voice. “She mentioned you trying to get rid of her.”

Yeah… How foolish of me to think I’d succeeded.

But she is me. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I should be able to recall everything she’s done, including where she hid the damaging evidence against Alik.

I focus on that, pushing the suffocating reality that I’m probably not treatable from my mind for the time being.

Where in my apartment would I hide something like that?

My eyes snap open when I think of it.

“I know where she put the photos.”

“You do?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

I nod and stand before hurrying to the apartment door.

“Olive, wait. It might not be safe.”

“I can’t let her do this to you,” I say, my voice raising as I spin to face him.

He pauses a moment while staring at me seriously. Slowly, he climbs to his feet and nods. “Let me check it out first.”

He goes ahead of me then returns a minute later, holding the door open for me as he gestures to my apartment.

I hurry across the hall and make a beeline for my bathroom, nervous excitement fueling my steps.

Alik stands in the doorway while I fall on my knees in front of the sink and rip open the cabinet door. I poke my head inside and feel along the edge of the bottom board until I find the spot that has some give.

It’s been a year since I shot heroin, but it hasn’t been a year since drugs have tempted me. Eleven months ago, I bought a bottle of Oxys from the guy in the apartment Alik now occupies. I never took them, and after five months of keeping them hidden in this compartment, I found it in myself to throw them out a few days after Alik moved in.

I pull up the board and drag in my first full breath when I spot the bulging envelope. I pluck it out, but when I go to open it, Alik rips it from my hand.

His face is stone as he opens it and pulls out a thin sheet of paper that he lets drift to the floor before sliding several pictures into his hand.

“Well?” I ask, stretching to snatch the note that fell to the floor.

I know you both better than you think. Guess again ;)

“Fucking bitch,” Alik growls before chucking the envelope to the floor.

I flinch, nearly knocking my head against the cabinet door. I have to remind myself he doesn’t see her and me as the same person.

Or maybe he does.

Maybe I’m the bitch.

His anger is explosive as he tears through my apartment, ripping open doors and shoving things off shelves. He retrieves a knife from the kitchen and starts slicing open the couch cushions and pulling out the stuffing like something might be hidden within them, all while I stand in the bathroom doorway watching.

When his gaze hits me, I lower my eyes, only then noticing what the pictures are of.

They aren’t of his crimes.

They’re of mine.

My lungs seize as I bend to pick up a few of the photos, sifting through them while my throat clogs.

They’re photos of him. Naked. Some with me on top of him, a smirk plastered on my face. He isn’t conscious.

Oh my God.

I… I did this.

I drop the photos and try to suck in air, but all I can manage is a wispy gasp. Alik is still slicing apart my cushions when I go to him and place my hand on his back as gently as I can.

He turns to me with a glare. “She said I would never find the photos, but your father would. Can you think of where he would look?” Alik turns back to the couch like he’s just realizing no one would ever search for clues to my disappearance in my couch cushions. I don’t blame him for being destructive. I think he’s just angry. He should be.

“Alik…” I choke on the word so much that I don’t know how I’ll ever manage more.

When he turns to me again, he shakes his head. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Just help me figure this shit out.”

I nod more times than are probably necessary. “I will. No matter how long it takes, I promise you, I’ll find them.”

“We can’t be in your apartment long. It isn’t safe.”

“Right,” I say, wringing my hands. Being here reminds me of the first time we sat on the couch he just destroyed. I told him I couldn’t be in a relationship, that I did bad things when I did drugs. At the time, I thought the drugs kept my medication from working. Now I think they just made me slip away, handing the reins to … her.

That night, Alik had said that I couldn’t possibly scare him off. But that wasn’t true. If he’d known the truth, he would’ve ran. He should have.

“I should’ve told you the truth about everything… I’m so sorry,” I whisper, feeling the regret in my bones.

He stares at me a moment before running his hand through his dark hair and sighing. “I wouldn’t have told me. And if you had, you’d be dead. So don’t be sorry.”

“I raped you.” Saying the words aloud makes them somehow even more real. I have to close my eyes when shooting pain pierces my stomach.

Alik cups my chin gently and lifts it so I’ll open my eyes to look at him. For a moment, he’s serious. Not necessarily angry, but serious.

But then his lips quirk up. Life lights up his eyes. “You’re fucking crazy.” He shakes his head like he’s wrapping his mind around the extent of it. “But if you knew even half of my truth, you would hate me more than I could ever hate you.”

“I want to know everything about you,” I say, leaning into his touch. “Please. I know you can’t really trust me. I understand why, but … don’t ever think I wouldn’t accept you. I don’t care what crimes you’ve committed.”

“You have a bit of a reputation for snitching.”

“That was different. And you told me to go to the police. So what does?—”

His head dips so his mouth can press to mine, effectively silencing me. When he pulls away, he takes in a deep breath, his eyes still closed. It hits me how sunken his face looks, how dark the bags under his eyes have become.

“You look exhausted,” I whisper, caressing his jaw.

His eyes open, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You should sleep.”

He gives me a lazy smile. “Why, you feeling horny?”

My eyes widen. “That is not funny.”

He laughs, but when he comes down from it, his smile falls. “Seriously, though. What happens if I fall asleep? Do you think you’ll stay … you?”

I nod. “I’ll be up the whole time. I promise.”

He looks skeptical, but eventually, he nods. “All right, let’s get out of here, then. If you’re seen outside my apartment, the pictures your evil twin took will be the least of our worries.”

“I understand.”

He puts his hand on my back while guiding me from the apartment. “Just so you know, I like you better. You’re the far more agreeable one of the two of you.”

I know he means it as a joke, but I find myself sighing with relief anyway. No one I know who’s still alive has ever known my other half. I wouldn’t have guessed she existed, let alone that she was some kind of mastermind.

Is it crazy to fear Alik may somehow come to like her better?