Alive

Chapter 10

Elle

(Monday, May 6)

5:54.

My eyes snap open before my phone alarm goes off. I don't remember them ever closing. Last thing I remember, I was wiping my computer down and... Oh. The dirty wipe is still in my hand, and I'm curled up beside the open laptop. I like to take it apart every week or so, clean out the dust. Crap.

Beep. Beep. Beep. There it is. I hate the sound, so it's shut off before the fourth chime. Time to write a note. It's hard to stand, and I really should just go to bed. But that's a joke. I've already cried multiple times because I missed that one day. Maybe it's weird since we actually talk now, but old habits die hard. Or never, in my case.

The purple sticky note reminds me. My article's due today. The article I was supposed to complete yesterday. The article I managed to forget about until this moment. Crap. At least I have three hours. I should be able to pull something together. I have to. I can't lose this job. I worked my butt off to get it, and a freelancing opportunity this lucrative doesn't come often. I'll have enough money to splurge on new towels this month if I'm careful.

So I jot something down on the note, peel it off, and trudge to the door. What did I get...three hours of sleep? Not nearly enough. Whatever. I'm opening the door, and for a minute I just stare at him. Maybe I think it's a dream or something, but eventually, I realize—Oliver's sleeping on my doormat. Of course. Why wouldn't he be? Why am I even surprised after everything else this weekend?

His dog's with him this time, and I hold my breath as I tiptoe past them, hoping they won't notice me. It'll just take a second. I think. Except Oliver's door already has a note on it, which I pause to read even though I already know what it says. His rent is late again. Really late this time. I paid mine a week and a half ago.

I'm just turning back to my door, when the loudest sound in the universe almost knocks me out of my skin. Okay, not that loud, just jarring. Oliver's phone, that obnoxious country song, not nearly muffled enough, inside his pocket. I freeze as he sits up, eyes still closed as he pulls it out. His hair is ridiculous. Completely standing up on one side.

I'm just standing here, hoping he will go back to sleep, but there's a voice on the other side of the line, and the person doesn't sound happy. Oliver slumps forward, raising his elbows to rest against his knees—and I gasp. Just a small gasp, but loud enough that his eyes flash up and lock with mine. I hate myself, but I couldn't help it. There's blood all over his right arm, and my white shirt has a hole over the gash.

The guy on the phone is still talking. Oliver makes a couple affirming grunts, dropping his head forward and running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he says finally. "Understood."

I hear the click, but Oliver doesn't move for a while, still slumped over with the phone pressed to his ear.

"You okay?" I ask. Because obviously I have to at this point. I'm just thankful his dog's on a leash since his tail is thumping on the ground as he eyes me. Oliver's quiet, but then lifts his head, offering me a sleepy smile.

"Caught you," he says. I just blink a couple times, so he continues with a gesture toward his door. "The note."

"You knew it was me," I say.

"Now I do," he says. He starts to rest his right arm on his dog but pulls it back, wincing.

"What happened?" I ask, motioning toward it.