Page 57 of Alik
This woman is not cute. She’s a predator.
If she wasn’t also Olive, I’d kill her.
I should still kill her.
I’m so fucking confused.
“I follow you all the time.” She pulls her gaze off me to roam it around my apartment. “I know every nook and cranny of this place and every hidey-hole in it. I know the password to your computer, what kind of porn you watch, the victims you look into, the money you stash beneath your mattress, the knife collection under your floorboard, along with photos which I’d love to talk about. The gun in the shoebox on your closet shelf. The bottles of poison and tranquilizer, including what you gave Olive. There’s some of that in one of your vodka bottles by the way, if you’re wondering why you got especially sleepy last Thursday night.”
My eyes widen, which makes her laugh.
She raises her hands. “Hey, I just took a page from your playbook.”
“Are you saying you…?”
“Fucked you while you were asleep?” Biting back a smirk, she nods.
I blink at her, shock stiffening my muscles yet again. I try to remember where the knife fell without looking that direction. I could strangle her easily, but a knife is quicker. There’s no going back, no soft touch to convince me Olive is inside that crazy head.
She might be in there… But I’ve killed less deserving people for worse reasons.
“I guess that’s fair,” I say, forcing a laugh as I run my hand through my hair and step around the dead woman, searching for the knife with my foot.
“I’m glad you understand.”
“How have you been getting into my apartment?” I feign interest, holding eye contact as I try to slyly sweep my foot.
She raises a brow. “Is that a serious question?”
I shrug. “I’m curious.”
“I blew the maintenance guy. He gave me a key. It isn’t the most impressive thing on my resume.”
With one more step backward, I find the knife, my heel clamping on the blade. “And whatisthe most impressive thing on your resume?”
She wanders closer with her hands clasped behind her back. “That’s tough. Like I said, I’m not an idiot, and I’ve been around for a while. But since you’ve put me on the spot, I guess I’ll have to go with framing my neighbor across the hall for my murder.”
My knees have been poised to bend for the knife, but at her words, they lock.
“Well,” She tilts her head and laughs. “I guess it isn’tframingif it’s the truth. Or is it if the evidence is still planted?” She twists her lips like she’s considering it. “Hmmm.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
When she brings her hands in front of her, she’s holding a knife from my stash she spoke of. “I’m going to tell you thisone more time. After this, no more chances. I like you, kid. You’re cute. But you’re pissing me off…I am not an idiot.”
“I never said?—”
“Get your foot off that fucking knife, Alik. Kick it away. Now.”
My face hardens at the command, but her threat of planting evidence somewhere, having the foresight to frame me, keeps my hands still. She’s crazy enough to be telling the truth.
Blood rushing in my ears, I kick the knife backward.
Her glare doesn’t ease. “Good. Do not do that shit again.”
“What evidence? What the hell are you talking about?”
She lets the knife hang at her side and raises her chin. “Well, I hadhopedthis wouldn’t be necessary, but… In my apartment is a heartfelt letter addressed to my mother explaining my relationship with my new boyfriend. I dated it for months ago because, of course, Olive would never get around to sending that or the other five I wrote and scattered at various places so you’ll never find all of them. Same with the diary entries chronicling the steady ascent into your abuse or the entries where I find out you're a killer. I took photos of you to take to the police, being the good citizen I’ve proven I am, but you threatened to kill me. That’s the last entry, hidden somewhere you will never find it, but I promise, Daddy will. Along with the pictures of you killing people, of course.”