I’m going to die today, aren’t I? And why did he call me ‘boy’? Come on, I have a respectable stubble going! I can even grow a beard if I’m okay with looking like a patchy, unkemptperson for a few weeks.
Not the time, Oliver.
“I’m sure there's been a misunderstanding. I just wanted to check if Dalton’s okay. I don't need anything else,” I try.
The woman doesn't look convinced. She glares up at me through her lashes. Maybe they’re angry because I didn’t buy anything? I would hate it if a customer wasted so much of my time without making any purchase. But enough to kill them? Probably not.
Maybe it’s just their sales technique. Doubt they get a ton of repeat customers.
I turn to pick up the first thing from the shelf. I immediately regret my decision when I hear a low growl coming from behind.
The man suddenly looks a lot more intimidating, which I didn’t even know was possible.
“You’d be a nice little message to them to leave us the fuck alone,” he scowls.
Yeah, this is not fun and games anymore.
The woman’s eyes are now a lighter shade of brown than before. Right in front of me, they’ve turned almost golden brown. Are they shining? Oh my God, what is wrong with Dalton's family?
I take a step back, self-preservation finally kicking in.
She takes a step towards me.
Suddenly, I hear bells, and a woman in a business suit stands at the door. I don't wait for her to speak or for anyone else to react. I just make a run for it. I don't even look back.
When I’m in my car, I hit the accelerator hard. My car makes an uneasy sound.
Once I’m in traffic, I relax enough to breathe. My heart isstill going a mile a minute. What the fuck just happened? Were they going to kill me? Why? Were they that worried about Dalton's drug problem?
Come on, Oliver, think.
It's clearly not as simple as that. There’s something deep there. Maybe they’re drug peddlers? They sell some kind of special drug that causes crazy changes in human anatomy? That's why Dalton looked the way he did?
Whatever the reason, I know I wasn’t supposed to make it out alive.
Christmas-lit streets of LA blur past my window. And somewhere between the glowing storefronts, I decide I’m done.
Maybe I’ll never get a decent night of sleep ever again. Maybe I’ll never figure out what I saw that day. But some things are just meant to remain a mystery. I’m clearly way in over my head. I’m not even curious anymore. I don't care why an eighty-year-old man was running like he wasn’t even human. Why my body froze when I saw him. What this small hippie shop is hiding. Even though I’m now certain his eyes glowed.
I am truly, once and for all, done.
I park my car in the basement and take the elevator to my floor. My heart is still racing. I’m scared. I’m shivering.
When I’m in front of my door, I don’t even think before I turn right and knock.
Matt opens the door right away. Concern written all over his face. I can only assume what he saw, but he’s suddenly in my space. His hands cup my face. “Are you okay?”
He's close. So close. I can smell his body wash. It soothes me a little. His hands move slowly over my body, assessing. A stark reminder of how he treated me when he saw me standing in this very hallway that day.
“Talk to me, Oliver,” he almost pleads.
I breathe out. His hands burn paths on my arms.
So many emotions are radiating off of him. He looks worried, scared, confused, and angry all at the same time.
“I'm okay.” I’m not okay. Not okay at all. Not even a little bit. I move further into his space until we’re sharing the same air.
I guess I’ll be okay.
