Unhinged

17

Maurya

The taste of metal is strong in my mouth. I should be happy, but I am instead filled with skepticism. Oliver sits across from me in the living room seemingly unbothered.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask starting at the clock instead of his face.

I see in the corner of my eyes look up at me. "I care."

"You care," I echo with disbelief. "You care about what?"

Oliver's brow furrows. "About you. We just talked about this—"

"There's nothing to care about. There is...nothing here. I'm a shell, Oliver. I'm a husk. I'm a ghost. There's nothing here. I' not here."

Oliver goes silent for a minute. "I'm looking at you."

I smile and say nothing. I actually hate what I've become but I try not to look at it. It's like I was human once and I've collapsed into the kind of beast that made me such a mess. Feasted on me but I can't help it. I'm infected now.

The abused becomes the abuser.

My stomach turns, I feel it bubbling up at just the thought of the phrase. I run to bathroom the vomit falling into the toilet. His footsteps are quiet behind me, like they belong there. He kneels next to me when holds my hair. Rubs my back.

I'm tired.

"Y-you don't know me. And what you know...it's not something care about. Please...tell me what you want. I'll do it I just...I just wanna know I don't wanna be surprised. I don't like surprises. They're always painful." The tremble in my voice is pathetic it Iwant it over with. The way I have to look at a needle before it sticks me.

I just...I just want to see what will cause me pain since I can't avoid it.

"Tell me," it's a whimper. And I hate it. I wished I'd swallowed it I wished this wasn't happening and why did I think this would be easy?

No. I knew it wouldn't be easy. Why did I think it was worth it?

"Oliver."

"I don't want anything from you, I don't need it. I just thought it would be nice."

I nod and smile. "What? What would be nice?"

He shrugged. "If we were close. If we hung at my house and I took your leftovers to work to throw away so I wouldn't hurt your feelings. If we went out to dinner and maybe I know your drink order or what you'll get."

"What's that called?" I whisper.

He shrugged. "I don't know. But I'll tell you something Maurya. I know you would let me step on you. And that's why I'll always watch where I walk. Come on, let's get you a ginger ale," he pulls me up, effortlessly.

I shake my head. "You know how much I like you Oliver."

He nods and smiles. Cups my face and puts his forehead against mine. "I know."

"I could kill people you don't like if you want. I can hurt people. I'm good at it."

Oliver nodded. "It's okay. I'm good at it too. Come on," he pulls me into the kitchen, but I don't help him going somewhat limp.

"You want to know my drink order?"

He nods. "At every restaurant. They're all different, yknow how they keep sodas—"

"Sodas," I scoff and chuckle breathlessly. "I'm deranged. I know it. I just killed someone. He's in the basement."

"I brought him here," he said simply, sliding a can of Canada Dry over to me. We stand on opposite sides of the counter.

"Why?"

He taps his fingers against the counter. "When we first met you absolutely enthralled me and then you aroused me. And then you terrified me. And somewhere down the line I just expected you."

His lips turned up. "I expected you to be there and I looked forward to it."

"You know nothing about me."

"Tell me."

I don't. He won't like me much.

"You saved me. You did you—you don't have to keep this up—"

His hand comes down on the counter. It makes a small thud and I flinch away at the sudden movement, spilling my drink. Silently, he takes a napkin and wipes it away.

"Sorry," he says softly. "I like you, Maurya. So far what I know about you is that you are beautiful. You seem to like fashion. You like eyes particularly...eating them but you haven't before. And you kill men which is slightly different than killing people. At least to you."

He taps his fingers against the cabinet. "You're comfortable here. You like it here. I think you think of it as your home. I like it. And you can call it what you want. Love at first sight, girlfriend and boyfriend, roommates I don't care what. But I think you and I are gonna get along."

He pats my shoulder and walks past me. "At least we better since we're now a serial murdering team huh? Bring your ginger ale. Let's watch TV."

And I do so, dumbfounded, unsure what to think or say other than to just obey. I sit next to him on the couch and he puts his arm around me, turning on Netflix. We pick up on the Great Bake off and before he presses play he turns to me and looks me in my eyes.

"Hey. It's okay, kid. I've gotcha."

And I don't know what they made on that episode and I don't really care.