8 The Repulsive and the Unpredictable

Oliver wasn't going to let me sit this one out and wait for him to come to me. He was tired of being the one who initiates the kill; he wants me to go after him. After sitting alone with my paranoia for weeks, it was somewhat of a relief to me knowing that he wasn't coming after me this time, but it also sank a hole in my stomach. Instead of running, I was chasing. I felt like a mouse going after a hungry cat; a match to not end well.

After cutting down the animal from my ceiling and dragging it into the woods, I stripped my bed of the bloody sheets and put it in the washer with bleach. Once the clothes were washing, I got on my hands and knees to scrub the floor, which had also been stained from dragging the corpse to the front door. My rags were turning red from the maroon liquid coming up from the carpet. My hands also had a red tint as I scrubbed with ungodly amounts of bleach and soapy water. I was annoyed with Oliver for making such a mess this time.

Once the floor was as clean as it would get, I dumped my bucket of bloody bleach water down our bathtub drain, as I was too lazy to go outside and dump it. I watched the red and brown river rush across the white tiles, then ran a steady stream of freshwater from the faucet to wash the rest of it away forever.

The sheets came out of the washer with more stains than before. I threw them away in defeat.

Once I had cleaned up the mess as much as I could, I found my backpack from the top of my closet and began packing a couple changes of clothes. A few pairs of comfortable jeans, shirts, and underwear should hold me over until I find Oliver. Once my clothes were packed, I made my way to the kitchen. I packed various fruits from our cabinets, and a couple of can foods along with our can opener.

After playing this game for a while, you learn how to pack a bag. I finalized my travels with blankets and raincoats, then slipped on my boots to get ready to go. As usual, I never left without my kitchen knife. It was times like these I wish I owned a gun.

With my backpack on my shoulders, I made my way outside, preparing to walk for miles. There was no point in taking the car; if I found Oliver before he found me, I don't want him knowing I'm there.

I headed off towards the woods behind our property, where I knew he would be hiding somewhere. The dead deer was a clue to that.

The weather outside was crisp and heavy with dew, as any autumn morning would be. Dead leaves, broken twigs, and small pellets of gravel crunches underneath my boots with every step. I kept a close eye on my surroundings, watching for any signs of him. As I did so, my heart ached for what we used to have. I longed to relive a time before I knew how terribly ill Oliver was.

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My head had been pounding all morning. I remembered the day very clearly in my mind's eye; the weather was boiling hot for Illinois, and my air conditioner had broken down. Extreme heat always gave me unbearable migraines.

Oliver had texted me for the fifth time that day, expecting an answer I had yet to give. We weren't a couple yet, and I didn't want him to see me in my nauseous, sweaty mess. But Oliver was persistent.

After the sixth text message I finally answered. "Not feeling well today," I had typed back. "Not up to making plans. Sorry." I had assumed I ruined my chances with him then. I mean, if I were on the other end of the phone, I would have assumed this sudden "illness" was some kind of excuse not to meet up with me, but Oliver didn't think that way.

Within an hour, a knock sounded at my door. I remember rolling my eyes in disgust, thinking it was my landlord complaining about making needed repairs to my house. But to my surprise, when I opened the door it was Oliver standing on the other side. My shock was clear on my face.

"Oliver," I greeted him. "What a surprise. What are you doing here?"

He had smiled sheepishly. "You said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you a few groceries." He held up his hands to reveal the shopping bags around his wrists.

"Oh, wow," I replied, searching for words. "You didn't need to do that."

Oliver gave me a half-grin. "It's really no problem," he said. "Just thought I'd help you out. May I come in and put these away for you?" With a nod, I took a step back to let him in my apartment where he pulled a few groceries from their bags and placed them in cupboards and the refrigerator. Once he'd finished, he turned to me and said, "It's a bit hot in here."

"Yeah, sorry, the AC's broken," I chuckled lightly, putting my hands in my pockets. "That's what gave me this damn headache."

Oliver smiles warmly. "How about we head over to my place, then? My AC is running smoothly, and you're welcome to sleep off the headache. You'd be surprised at how dark my apartment can get after closing the blinds." The look on my face must have showed a mixture of confusion and my discomfort because he quickly added, "Close the blinds to keep the sun from irritating your head, I mean. Nothing sexual. I'm not a creep, I swear it."

I laughed a little at the mood lightener that was reddening his cheeks. At that moment I knew Oliver Villin wasn't a creep. I accepted the invite to his apartment, which was only a few blocks from mine. As promised, his air conditioning ran well, and he closed the blinds to let me rest. He had went above and beyond to assist me; he offered me over-the-counter pain relief and even placed a warm washcloth over my eyes. I had never had someone take care of me so well, with the exception of my mother when I was younger. It was that day I thought to myself, I could spend the rest of my life with this man.

I never thought I'd find myself running for my life from this man.

I guess you can say love is unpredictable and sometimes repulsive.