Page 55 of Alik

She is a walking timebomb.

I’m going to have to kill her.

But my grip on her neck won’t tighten.

Not yet.

I swallow. “Last chance, Olive.”

Her eyes snap open as her lip curls. “I’m notOlive.”

My body stiffens. Even my brain seems to stiffen as I stare at her, my mind feeling blank.

What?

“Let go of me,” she demands, pushing at my hands. She isn’t aggressive about it, and she doesn’t seem afraid. It’s like she can see the determination leave my body.

I lower my hand to my side and take a step back while she rubs at her neck, her glare aimed at me.

“Do you honestly think Olive would do something like that?” She waves her hand at the corpse. “I mean, honestly.”

“Considering I watched you do it, yes.”

She rolls her eyes and walks to the kitchen, her hips swaying deeper than I’ve seen. Her back is straight, her chin is up. She’s carrying herself in a completely different manner. Almost as if … she truly is a completely different person.

Olive… I think… goes to a cabinet and grabs a glass before filling it with water while I creep to the kitchen.

“I think I’ll be pouring my own drinks while we’re together, by the way. Olive may be an idiot, but I’m not.”

I watch her take a sip, and when her eyes meet mine, she smiles, amused again.

“You don’t seem groggy.”

Her head tilts. “Oh, did you drug heragain? You naughty boy. I was talking about the night you came to her apartment.”

I wander closer to her. “Why would you think I drugged her?”

She gives me a knowing smirk. So similar to the one I saw today on the sidewalk after I took the sketchbook. She went from panicked to smirking so abruptly and seemed to look straight at me…

What is going on?

“She’s convincedI’mthe one who put her at that house,”Olive?goes on. “When her memory lapses, she automatically blames me. But I, more than anyone, know I had no part in what happened that night. I have no memory beyond your lips pressed against mine, handsome. Which means…”

“You think I put her there?” I ask, my tone skeptical.

“I think you drugged her,” she corrects. “And then I think you fucked her. And when you left, that piece of shit dealer did something. He’s been wanting to get a piece of her since she left those losers a year ago, and thanks to you, he managed.”

I stay quiet, keeping my eyes trained on her while she fills in the blanks for herself. I think she’s like me. She likes to solve puzzles. Who am I to tell her she’s wrong?

“But,” she runs her finger around the rim of her glass, “you found out what happened and felt so guilty that when you got the chance to help her, you took it. And for that, I forgive you.”

Seconds pass as we stare at each other, her with a slight smile tilting her lips.

“Whoareyou?” I finally ask.

Her smile widens. “Everything Olive wishes she could be.”

Everything Olive wishes she could be… No. I have a hard time believing Olive wishes she could be insane.

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