6 Come Out Wherever You Are

I attempt to finish the project I was currently working on for my job, but my mind is elsewhere. It's been days since Oliver first disappeared, and I knew my fate was coming soon.

I thought back to all the times he'd murdered me before. When Oliver played his game, he was ruthless and merciless. He had always called me the love of his life, and yet when we play he looks at me like he's never seen me before. His eyes are glassy and emotionless like a hungry animal. I shivered and goosebumps traced my skin under my clothes.

I remember a time before the wreck happened- when Oliver and I believed we were both mortal. There's something exciting about living life knowing you only get one chance; knowing that at any given moment your heart could stop beating and that's the end of your story. Six feet under for good. No digging yourself from a grave.

There were times when Oliver buried me and I thought about just giving up and staying underground. Just allowing my body to die over and over again. The thought of dying endlessly was too painful, and I knew eventually Oliver would dig me up and wait for me to come back. I sighed. There truly is no point to a life that doesn't have an ending.

The AC unit kicked on loudly, and I jumped, clutching the kitchen knife I held beside me. My heart jumped to my throat as I looked around frantically, as if Oliver would spring from the air conditioner and attack me. Once I realized there was no threat, I chuckled to myself and loosened my grip on the knife, but never sat it down completely.

My mind chased itself in circles. Mundane things quickly became paranoid signs of Oliver's return; the wind outside rustling tree limbs made me tremble, and the leaves scraping the ground sounded like his hissing laughter.

I took deep breath, attempting to quiet down the steady beat of my chest. My hands were shaking terribly. I stood, making my way towards the kitchen, knife still held securely by my side. I looked out the window above our sink, trying to see any trace of something out-of-the-ordinary. Everything was eerily average.

I was beginning to grow very annoyed. I wish he would just show up and face me already. The growing anticipation was planting a dangerous, ravenous seed in my brain that I wanted to claw out with my bare hands.

The back door made a small noise that could have merely been the house trying to settle, but still I whirled around with my knife at the ready. "Come out and get me, Olly!" I yelled his name in bitter disgust and maddening fear. My chest heaved up and down as I stared straight at the back door, daring it to swing open and reveal my death. The house was silent.

I glared at the wooden frame and sneered at the metal knob. When no other sounds arose to my ears, my mind began filling in scenarios. If that had been Oliver at the door, he wouldn't still be there. In fact, he'd want my attention to remain locked on that stupid wooden frame so that he could sneak up behind me and slice my throat open. I whipped around, looking frantically behind me. Silence.

I snickered to myself. That was too predictable of him; he'd want to do something unexpected. Perhaps enter through a window and hide behind a door, waiting for me to approach it so he can pounce on me when I least expect it.

I laughed manically, beginning to make my way through the rest of the house. "Come out, come out, Olly, Olly," I chanted with a menacing grin. With every door I passed, I peaked behind it just in case my suspicions were true. "What's the sense in hiding from me?" I asked, still on my toes. I searched the rooms, and each were empty. "Come out and finish the game, Oliver!" I shouted, growing impatient with the heavy paranoia in my heart. The bathroom was empty.

That's every room in the house I've searched, and every room clear. I made my way carefully to my bedroom where I lied on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My ears were peeled for any unfamiliar movement, and the rest of my senses were hyper-alert. The handle of the kitchen knife pressed into my palm. "Kill me already," I whispered as I lied there, too afraid to do anything else.