Falling For Insanity

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:

Rosie Mae's POV

It was unattainable to wrap my mind around what happened. It felt like only minutes but hours at the same time.

Like a fever dream.

I knew it had in fact happened and wasn't a dream but it just didn't seem real. Even with the mental image of the dead man laying there, so close to me that in just a few strides I could have been next to him.

When I woke up in what I figured to be Eric's room, I nearly jumped out of my skin, knowing Blake would be just down the hall in his own bedroom.

"Don't worry" Eric told me from his seat in the recliner in the corner of the bedroom. "We're not in my bedroom at my parents place." He let out a chuckle. "We're at Cory's house."

The way he said it was so nonchalantly, as if nothing happened and there was nothing to be said in any regard to it. I wasn't one to move on from things so quickly, not even little things...so this, more than anything, wouldn't be a time where I just brushed something under the rug.

What planet was this man actually living on? Truly?

The fear I once had of Eric was now far greater, not anticipating for it to grow what so ever. I couldn't look at him without replaying him murdering that poor man in my head.

I still felt sick to my stomach.

He was clean. Really clean. His hair was still a little damp from what looked like a recent shower. His clothes were fresh as well, right off the rack fresh, now wearing a pair of tan joggers and a black hoodie. It was plain as day that the evidence anywhere was wiped spotless.

Even after last night, I still found him to be stunningly handsome.

"Well..." Eric began after I had said nothing, not knowing if I needed to speak a word to him...or what to even say at that. "Do you believe me now, Rosie Mae?" He finished.

My eyes found him again, only to be shown a quite smug and know all expression from his relaxed demeanor in the chair. For the first time, I began to feel anger alongside the fear I had of him.

Everyone sees documentaries or hears about how it's possible for a human being to be so cold, but never is one convinced that it would ever occur in their life. To have it so close to you, right in your face all the time wasn't supposed to be in the cards for me just like anyone else.

He had put on this production, this show, to get me to believe him? As if I had any doubt in me before? What happened to our deal? Last I recall, we were in an agreement for me not to talk and him not to kill me. How was this fair? But how could I expect fair out of someone who was literally insane?

I missed Blake. All I wanted to do was be in his arms. He was probably worried sick about me, having not heard from me at all since leaving yesterday evening. This just reminded me that I'd have to come up with another lie as to why I hadn't texted him back all night and morning.

I wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. Just Blake and I, happy in our basic, sweet relationship. I should've been more thankful for my quiet life then.

"I always believed you." I finally answered him.

Although my credibility is shot, there was honestly a slight comforting feeling in knowing that he wasn't going to kill me. I'm sure he would've already if that was the plan? Eric didn't peg me as the type of man to prolong that if that was something he wanted to do. The fear I have isn't so much so for me, but for the world around Eric.

"We know that for sure now, don't we?" Eric asked. I could've swore there was a hint of mockery in there.

I hated the way he stood ever so slowly, arms braced against the armrests of the chair he's getting out of. The corner of his lips tugged upwards into a small smirk.

My feet pushed my body backwards on the bed right away, trying to get as far as I could even though it wasn't much. My eyebrows drew together as my gaze hardened, trying to tell him with my eyes to not come any closer. As if that would be listened to.

"You slit a man's throat..." my voice was shaky but I continued anyway. "Right in front of me. What the f**k is wrong with you?"

Another deep chuckle left his lips at my question. Everything was funny to this man.

"Would you have not done the same?" Eric asks me, side eyeing me as he went to the closet, pulling out a black backpack. The action made me uneasy, never knowing what Eric had up his sleeve...or specifically in that backpack.

"What kind of question is that?" I asked. "I'm not a murderer like you."

He reached the bed, dropping the backpack down on top of it. With a hand rested on top of the bag, he then asked, "so then what are you? Who are you?" My face twisted into a confused expression. "Wait-" Eric, cracked a smile. "Let me guess. Shy, quiet girl, right? Maybe a few issues at home but overall a plain, boring life. Cliché good girl, right? She'll go to parties but she won't get drunk enough to make a mistake. She'll get drunk but she won't ever smoke, forcing herself to believe smoking is so much worse. Sweet girl, right? She lives her life by leading, never following but yet she won't speak her mind when facing adversity."

I stare blankly. "I guess you have me all figured out."

The saddest part was that he wasn't wrong. Every word he said, I couldn't argue. Hearing it spoken out loud, by someone else, made me realize just how much I've held back.

"This is where you're wrong, yet again." He tells me. "You don't even have yourself figured out. You have no idea who you are. Maybe you're more like me than you think."

I scoff with a sarcastic laugh, finally standing up and planting my feet firmly on the ground on the other side of the bed, putting distance between us. It was hard enough to remember how to breathe when he was even in my thoughts, let alone him being so close to me whenever he was near. "I am nothing like you." I told him in a matter a fact tone. "Must I remind you again, I am not a murderer." My head turns in every direction, searching for my things from last night.

"That still has yet to be determined."

I paused my searching to look at him. "Which part?" I ask. "Me being nothing like you or me not being a murderer?"

"Both."

I let out a breath and shake my head at him before returning to my search. "You're crazy."

He ignored my comment and instead told me, "Your keys and phone are in this bag."

I glanced between him and the bed, where the backpack still sat underneath his palm. "So you needed an entire backpack to carry two very small things? They fit in a pocket, Eric."

"Just take the bag, Rosie Mae." He said as his eyes rolled, extending an arm across the bed, holding it up in the air between us.

"No. Just give me my phone and keys." I tried my best to sound demanding but when up against a guy like Eric, that would get me no where. He stared at me, waiting for me to give in. "What else is in it?"

"For f***s sake." He groaned. "Take the damn bag, Rosie or I swear I'll lose my shit."

Without another thought or question after hearing his tone, I reached out and took it from him, back to feeling extremely small again.

"Come on. I'll take you home." He nodded his head towards the door. "Your shoes are by the front door."

"I'm not telling you where I live." I shook my head again vigorously, not about to budge on this one request of him.

Eric snatched his keys up from his nightstand and shoved his cellphone in his pocket as he told me...

"I already know, love. Let's go."

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"Where have you been?" My mom asked me as I entered my house, quickly shutting the door and starting for my room.

"I slept over at Faith's." I called out to her as I jogged up the stairs, ignoring her grumbles of disapproval behind me.

Part of me wanted nothing to do with whatever was in this backpack. The other part of me was itching to finally see what was inside other than the obvious phone and keys. What could he have possibly put in there? And why didn't he want me to open it with anyone around?

I stared at the black bag, sitting on my bed in front of me. The rough fabric was cool beneath my fingers from being in the car and outside. I couldn't help but to notice how it had the faintest aroma of Eric's cologne, one he seems to wear at least every time I've seen him. It smelled good. It was almost like he was in the room.

After unzipping the bag with slightly nervous hands, I discovered it's contents.

First was a stack of cash.

There was no telling how much money was there. But as I fanned the bills out, I found there wasn't any other bill other than one hundred dollar bills. Why the hell would he be giving me money?

Second was a very expensive looking long sleeved, gold dress that reached your ankles. This was matched with a very expensive looking pair of gold heels. What for? I do not know.

The last thing inside was a gun. Much like the one Eric wore on his waist all the time.

The metal was cold and smooth underneath my fingers. I held never held one before. But I think I now understand where the dominant, alpha feeling came from when doing so. I had never thought about it before even though it was all I could feel now.

There was a note inside and it simply stated...

"I think this dress would look more beautiful with you in it. You'll be wearing it to Faith's family's Christmas party.

As for the rest...see you soon, Rosie Mae"