Twisted perfection

Chapter one

Three years ago

/Olivia/

You are the only thing that brings a smile to my face. You make me glad when skies are gray. You can never understand, my dear, how much I care for you. I beg of you, please don't take...please don't take away my brightness.

Don't stop singing now, Momma. Not right now. I'm sorry I left. I just wanted to experience some of life. I do not share your fear in any way. It is imperative that you sing. I beg you to sing for me. This should not be done. You shouldn't talk to him. He was an illusion. Don't you see? He never existed in any form. It's been sixteen years since he passed away.

I am sorry that I did not tell anyone else about you. I am entirely to blame for this. You were in need of assistance, but I was unable to locate any for you. Perhaps I should have been more afraid after all... terrified that they would steal you away from there.

"Olivia, honey, give me your hands. It is necessary for me to tidy things up. Look at me, Olivia. Come back to talking to me. Even though she is no longer there, you are going to be fine. It is necessary that we wash you up. They have removed her body, and it is now time for you to leave this house permanently. There will be no return. Please, Olivia, turn your attention to me. What are you going to say?

I forced myself to close my eyes and focused my attention on Peter, my closest buddy. She was using a damp washcloth to wipe the blood off of my hands while tears were running down her face. I knew I should get up and go clean this up myself, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was dependent on her to carry out the task for me.

I have never been surprised by anything; I've always been prepared for it. Perhaps not in the precise manner in which it was taking place. It never occurred to me that my mother might have passed away. On most days, when I allowed my daydreams to progress to this point, I was plagued by feelings of guilt. Even if I knew that, I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. Even though I felt guilty, I couldn't help but fantasize about being set free.

I always imagined that eventually, someone would see that my mother wasn't entirely there. They would realize that I wasn't some crazy kid who wanted to spend all day at home and was unwilling to go out and experience the real world. I wanted them to... but in the end, I didn't force them to. Because gaining my independence would entail parting ways with my mother. Despite the fact that I was aware of her sanity issues, she depended on me. I was unable to stand there and watch as they took her away. It was just that she had been so terrified... of everything.

Four months ago

Olivia

We hadn't given it much thought, but when Peter gave me her old automobile and encouraged me to get out there and experience the world, neither of us had considered the fact that I didn't know how to put gas in the car.

My driver's license was only a few months old when I first got it. And I'd only had a car to drive for a total of five hours at that point. Learning how to operate a gas pump was not something I needed to do until now.

I rummaged about in my purse for a moment before pulling out my phone. I'd give Peter a call and see if she could guide me through this situation over the phone. She was on her honeymoon, and I really didn't want to bother her while she was there. When she pushed her keys into my hand earlier today and told me that she wanted me to "Go explore," I didn't know what to do with them. Olivia, you need to find your life.

Because I was so taken aback by the thoughtfulness of her action, I completely forgot to ask her anything else before we left. I had merely given her a bear embrace before watching as she sprinted away with her new husband, Kevin Paul , and climbed into the back of a limo.

The idea that I couldn't operate the gas pump had never occurred to me before. To this point. Due to the fact that my gas tank was almost completely depleted, I coasted into this modest service station located in some beach hamlet in the middle of nowhere.

I couldn't help but laugh at my own foolishness as I listened to Peter's voice say, "I'm not accessible. It is best, if you want to get in touch with me, to hang up the phone and send me a text. Her voicemail. It's likely that she was flying somewhere. It was up to me to figure out the solution to this problem all by myself.

I walked out of the small Honda Civic that was a faded crimson color. To my good fortune, I had stopped on the appropriate side of the gas tank. There was the tiny door that I was aware the nozzle entered through. This was something that I had seen Peter do in the past. I think I'm capable of achieving this. Maybe.

The first issue I had was that I was stumped trying to figure out how to enter through this enchanted secret door. It was in that place. I was able to view it, but there was no handle on it.

After staring at it for a short while, I turned my head to check the area around me for anyone who didn't appear to be dangerous. I needed some aid. It had taken me two full years of therapy to work up the courage to engage in conversation with complete strangers.

Now, I did it rather frequently. In all honesty, Peter was more responsible for it than the psychologist I was required to attend on a weekly basis. She was the one who introduced me to the outside world and showed me how to live.

On the mirror in my bathroom was a phrase from Franklin D. Roosevelt that read, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." I had the quote taped there. For the past three years, at least, I have been making it a daily habit to read it.

I repeated that to myself in my brain as I let go of every tension in my body. I did not feel any fear. I was not my mother in any way. My name was Olivia Daniel, and I was on a journey across the country to discover who I really was.

"You okay? In need of some assistance? I was startled by a low, silky drawl, and when I jerked my head around to see, I saw a guy grinning at me from the opposite side of the petrol pump. When he looked back at me, his dark brown eyes gave off the impression that they were laughing. Although it wasn't a lot, the experience I did have with boys was nonetheless valuable.

Enough to understand that their physical attractiveness did not, in and of itself, make them a morally upstanding individual, as evidenced by this one. My first experience with s****l activity resulted in the loss of my virginity, and it was at the hands of a smooth-talking southern boy with a smile that made panties drop all over the place.

It had been the most traumatic encounter I'd ever had in my entire life. However, this one might be of some use. He did not propose a s****l encounter. He was volunteering to be of assistance to me. At least, that's what I assumed he was.

"I can't… I, um… See, I've never..." Oh my God, I just couldn't bring myself to say it. How could a nineteen-year-old girl justify the fact that she had no idea how to operate a gas pump?

My belly began to rumble with laughter, and I instinctively covered my lips as it emerged. It was inevitable that he would consider me nuts. I was able to hold back my laughing as best I could and flash him a grin instead. "I have no idea how to operate the petrol pump."

After giving me some thought for a bit, the man's swanky dark eyebrows arched upward. It seems as though he was trying to determine whether or not this was true. If only he had known.

There were a lot of things that I had no idea about at all. Peter had been attempting to instruct me in the ways of the world, but she was now married, and it was time for me to figure things out without her being there to act as my support system.

I saw that his eyes were slowly scanning my body as he asked me the question, "How old are you?" I didn't look like a teenager. By the time I was sixteen, every aspect of my physical makeup had matured to its full potential.

I could tell that he was racking his brain to find a solution to this problem. The fact that I was too young to be able to pump gas was the only thing he could point to as a justification for his assumption.

"I may be nineteen, but I've only been driving for a short while, and this is the very first time I've had to pump my own gas," she said. I let out a sigh before breaking into a chuckle. Even to my ears, this seemed like complete nonsense.

"I know it seems ridiculous, but in all candor, I could really use some assistance. I have the ability to complete this task if you could just get me started. I turned around and took another look at his swanky huge truck. It was completely glossy and dark in appearance.

It was suitable for him, taking into account his towering stature, muscular build, olive skin, and dark hair. He was one of those alluring, stunning, and threatening individuals. I was able to deduce this from the sneer that was on his face.

After he walked around the bend, I got a better look at him and noticed that he was significantly taller than I had anticipated. But back then I was just five feet and five inches tall. It did his legs a lot of good that his jeans were tailored to fit snugly and that he wore dark brown leather work boots.

I snapped my gaze up to meet his pleased one as I slowly became aware, albeit a bit too late, that I had been looking. He had a very charming grin on his face.

Teeth that were spotlessly white and flawless, set off by a face that appeared to have gone several days without being shaved. It seemed incongruous for him to appear so disheveled while driving such an expensive truck.

He rapped his knuckles on the door and instructed her to "pop this small door open" before proceeding. The way in which his lips curled alluringly around the words he was saying captivated me to the point where I became concerned that I had overlooked some additional instructions.

The question was about to come out of my mouth when he walked around me and opened the door to the driver's side of the automobile. He leaned forward, allowing me to get a clear look at the very nice pants that were pulling over a similarly firm backside. This vista was quite appealing to me.

When the mysterious door suddenly opened, it caught me off guard and left me bewildered. I let out a squeal and whirled around to find that it was now standing open. “OH!” I could hardly contain my glee as I exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

As his enormous, warm form moved up behind me, I caught a whiff of grass as well as something deeper and more complex—possibly leather. I was enveloped by the tantalizing aromas.

Because I wasn't the type of person to pass up an opportunity (I'd already wasted far too many of those in my life), I took a very little step backward, just enough so that my back was pressing against his chest.

"I activated the gas door by pressing the button. It is located in your vehicle, directly beneath the dashboard. Even though I was infringing his personal space, he did not move away from me. Instead, he had leaned forward and whispered something in my ear. His voice was deep and had a delightfully rumbling quality to it.

Oh was the only thing that came to mind for me to say in response.

The vibration of a deep chuckle emanating from his chest rumbled into my shoulders. Do you want me to demonstrate how to properly fill the gas tank in the car at this point?