He never said if I should change clothes or not. So I was unsure on what to do after shower.
What if I do something that'll ruin everything?
But wait,
Divine Protection.
Just like he said.
Unlike Rosemary, I was already pure.
Was my entire shower pointless?
Well, at least, I'll change clothes. I wore Black socks, the same as my school ones. I looked through my fathers closet and picked a clean suit.
"Hi dad, are you okay?"
"Hello Oliver, I'm doing well with work. Is there anything you need?"
"That's correct. I will have to leave home for a few hours. May I borrow the black suit in your wardrobe, father?"
"Of course, may I ask why?"
"Sorry, I can't answer your question."
"Very well, you have full power."
"Thank you, also may I ask a slightly odd question?"
"By all means."
"Is your suit clean of any impurities that might cause problems during a Holy ceremony?"
"Yes, its been washed recently. Though, please keep it clean, I'll be using that the day after the next."
"Thank you, father. Will see you soon."
Me and him, have our own relationship. I know it isn't a normal manner to converse, but it's how he's raised me, and how I learnt as a child.
My dad didn't happen to have a black tie in the room, I assume he only has one, and is using it at work. But when I was a rebel, I had a habit of not using the Purple tie of the school, using a rather edgy black tie that I bought myself. Luckily, those days could prove their own use.
As I took off the towel, I saw myself in the mirror. I was quite slim, but there was some hint of muscles underneath my pale skin. There was a scar, a small yet very red one, on the left side of my abs. It was probably one centimetre long. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that Isabelle knew how to treat a wound. It never did get cleaned, but because of how fast things went, and the fact that we had no antiseptics available, she did do her best. I was confident that I wouldn't die of Sepsis.
Behind me, in the mirror, was my room. It was pretty shabby to say the least. I had a small poster of an ancient band from the '90s, who made good songs once. It was clean for someone my age, I think. I had several bookshelves, mainly full of History books, and a few odd collections of things I found at Charity shops, from the times I went shopping for books. An example would be Super System: A course in Power Poker. I don't really have an interest in Poker, but the massive book, full of useful knowledge, was quite cheap, and looked like a fun mental exercise, so I bought it.
I slept in a bed for two, even though I'd prefer to sleep in a small space. The sheets were a series of stripes, of the colours black-red-white.
There was also a barren workdesk that wasn't used for anything in particular.
For some reason, I began to feel nostalgic.
Me and father were very similar in our sizes. The suit made my father look professional, but on me, it looked solemn, like a Funeral dress. I noticed the main difference were in our faces.
Father's older face made him appear stronger, someone to look up to. My face was youthful.
Youthful and tired.
Father and Mum both had very coloured skin, as in tanned skin. The redness, or humanness in them was so different from me.
I thought that my face was the same colour as the shirt.
Did I always look so mono? The colour of my eyes were barely visible, so at a distance, one could assume they were Black. My lips had little colour to them as well.
I truly looked like a Black-and-white picture.
"Are you going out, Oli?"
That was my sister, her name is Audrey. I loved her, and I was jealous of her. She looked colourful. Her hair was a vibrant blonde, unlike my dull and white. Her skin was normal, her lips were a natural and beautiful red. Her eyes showed a beautiful blue. She even brought out the colours around her.
Audrey was relaxing on the couch, which looked more colourful than normal, looking at her phone. It was a surprise that she could even hear or notice me.
"I'll be back late."
She turned her attention away from her phone. "UH! Someone's come into our house! Help Oli!"
"Shut it Audrey."
"He's threatening me!"
I was sure that she's not stupid. She wasn't. She might even be bright.
She then suddenly threw a dart at me.
She was also a prodigy, a prodigy in any hand-to-eye sports. Archery, Darts, even baseball. She was famous for always hitting bullseye.
I dodged to my right, cleanly avoiding it. It was a few centimetres away from hitting me on the right side of my trachea. As good as she was, I had to be her equaliser.
"What is the rule about using darts in the house?"
I looked behind me, the amount of force in her hand, caused the dart to go into the wall. It gave me shivers.
"Okay Oli, real sorry."
I knew that for as long as I dodged her, she would keep attempting to kill me, and if I ever gave her the satisfaction of winning, she would look down on me.
I'm scared of being hated by her.
"Very well, anyways I beat up the guy who came into the house."
"Oh thank god, only my brother could dodge that."
She was going to get into the wrong side of a homicide case one day, no doubt.
"Wait… so. Where are you going?"
"I have to take care of something." I realised that sounded incredibly questionable.
"Is it chic to go over to a girls house looking like that?"
"Well I'm not going over to…" Wait, I am… hm, how do I explain. "…I need to go with someone to somewhere to do something."
"So, no adultery?"
"No adultery."
"Wouldn't an adulterer say that?"
"Jeez, how much trust do you have in your brother anyways?"
"I absolutely love my brother!"
"Throwing a dart at your brother isn't a sign of love! And neither is calling him an adulterer!"
"Unless my brother is a masochist…"
She looked very entertained. We didn't have interactions like this frequently. I was glad that she approved me.
"Well I'm not a masochist!"
"Hang on… are you my brother…?"
"Who do you think I am?"
"A masochist."
"Go to hell."
"Why are you saying such mean stuff Oli?"
"My sister – my real sister, is a masochist and she would enjoy it."
"I apologise." She looked at me, "I didn't know you were into adultery and Incest."
"I mildly dislike you now."
She looked incredibly shocked. "I thought you were into me."
"Wrong. Anyways, I'm probably going to be late now."
"See ya." Her face was back into her phone.
I chose a formal pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire. And began walking towards Rosemary's house.
Room Ninety-eight…?
I wondered what she thought of me.
I feel stupid.
In the past day, I have made some of the most stupid, illogical and random choices. There was no need for me to get involved with that girl. Was I really so captivated by her looks?
I am confident in my sense of Justice. I refuse to let it be stained, which is why I won't let myself seduced by a serial killer.
But is she really the serial killer?
Did she really murder three people?
That's when I got a call. It was Isabelle who called me.
"Oliver! I think I found something out!"
"What is it? Did something happen!?"
"I was thinking about the murders, and everything."
"Oh, I was just doing the same."
"Did you sort out everything with Rosemary? Does she exist now?"
"What?"
"I thought you went to Bishop Marrs today."
"Oh about that, I'm going over to Rosemary's house right now."
"Excuse me…? May I ask why?"
"Oh sorry. It's not what you think!"
"Okay what is it?"
"We're going to meet Marrs at ten o' clock. We're going to help her tonight."
"Sure, anyways. I don't think Rosemary killed three people."
Did I get everything wrong?
I don't understand.
Am I weak?
Was I useless again?
"Oliver… are you there?"
"Oh, I'm here. So, what happened?"
"I think we were stupid to say the one who disappeared, the second case, was murder."
"…"
"The second case was the son of a rich guy."
"So what?"
"There is no doubt that the first case, the start of all this hysteria, was a murder. A stabbing."
"It was…"
"I think I sorted it out, but I'd rather meet in person."
"Is Rosemary a murderer?"
"No."
I see. Bishop – no I won't ever call him Bishop again. That title is too generous for a guy like him. Marrs did say something about it. I didn't piece it together, but he told me not to link things together.
"Thank you, Isabelle. I have to go now."
"Okay, will this all be over by tomorrow?"
"Probably… well no. But Rosemary's problem will be helped, tonight hopefully."
Then she hung up on me.
Oh well.
By that point I was nearly at the apartmenr where Rosemary lived at.
I haven't given a description of the place yet, but it really wasn't that special. If anything, it looked out of place. Normally there wouldn't be a random apartment, as large as this, near a residential area.
Bzzt. "It's me, Oliver."
The door opened.
There were nine floors, and her room was the penultimate on the floor. When I knocked on the door, she opened it, with the chain-lock thing on. Then she closed it, and fully opened it for me.
She looked different in her normal clothes. She was wearing a bland t-shirt, with long pyjama bottoms.
She's actually…
I decided not to get swayed by any emotions.
"Why did you want to see me, two hours before we have to go?" She asked, but honestly, I had the same question.
"You asked. You specifically told me to arrive by eight at night. Actually, why did you want to see me so early?"
"Well, whatever. If you've run away from home and I'm the only person you can go to, then I guess you can enter."
She had not only absolutely ignored the fact that she had asked me to be here, but she also ridiculed me.
"What a crazy woman, honestly."
Oops…
…I had accidentally let those words go from a realm of fiction – my thoughts, to the real world.
She shut the door on me.
I knocked again. "Sorry."
And she opened the door again.
"Why did you want to see me, two hours before we have to go?" She asked, again.
I tried to recall what I originally said the first time.
"You told me. You told me to arrive by eight. Actually, why did you want to see me so early?"
"Well, whatever. If you've run away from home and I'm the only person you can go to, then I guess you can enter."
"Thank you for being so considerate." I was dying to sigh, but stopped myself.
"Take off your shoes, I'll make a drink."
I complied.
As I entered, I saw that her room was bare. It was empty. There was a tiny wall, where a sink was in the far left. She had a small table next to it where she had put a kettle and a pack of teabags.
There were no walls to separate rooms from each other. But there was no differentiation anyways. She had a pillow and blanket on one corner, with no bed, where I assumed, she called her bedroom. In the centre, there was a bigger table, and two seats, towards the wall was an electric heater, and a phone charger, it felt like a post-caveman pre-human's attempt at a living room.
Right in front of me were two shoes, one was outdoors, and looked heavily beat up, the other was her flat, formal shoe for school, which would look beautiful in a place so less filthy.
I pointed at the 'living room' table. "May I sit there."
"hm. Sure."
There were notes, and books, and revision guides, all scattered across the table. There were also sketches that she had done of things, like apples, or deserts, or beautiful people. She was a good artist.
Next to her bed, were all of her clothes, folded nicely. But everything, the whole 'house' felt wrong. It was too small, it was begging to be vacuumed, the whole thing was smaller than a classroom.
I suddenly began feeling guilty. But explaining it would be hard.
Something about this, felt horribly wrong.
"Coffee, Tea or Water?"
"Black Coffee please."
"Oh sorry, that was rude of me. I didn't need to be so effortlessly sarcastic. Tea, Hot water, or Cold water?"
"Tea."
She prepared a glass for me, and said she would now go shower.
"Shower where?"
There were no showers here, in fact there wasn't a toilet either.
"The room at the end, after ninety-nine."
"Public Toilets still exist?"
"…"
"Oh sorry, I guess that was insensitive."
"Please entertain yourself with any Legos you find on the ground."
"How old do you think I am? And there's Legos here!?"
"You said that last bit the way a ten year old would."
"Legos is for kids and Men alike."
"I agree, but I don't feel comfortable handing it to a Neanderthal."
"Didn't you just tell me to use Legos!? Why are you saying I can't now?"
"You didn't defend your primitivism."
"Ah – who cares about that. I mean, no I'm absolutely not!"
"We can test that." She had taken out a clean towel from her clothes. "What's eight squared times two?"
"Uhm…" That wasn't too hard actually, but she got there before me.
"Hundred and twenty eight. Oh, and this floor is females only, so if you need to use the toilets, go to floor eight."
"Okay…"
Just like that, she left the room. Leaving me, with many questions.