Mad Boy Next Door

Chapter Five

OLIVIA'S POV

Here I stood, in front of my bathroom mirror, the very spot where everything had begun about nine days ago.

But today, I wasn't staring at a baby murderer in the mirror. Instead, I gazed upon a woman with short, bouncy hair, bright ocean blue eyes, and refreshed, pampered skin.

I beheld a strong, beautifully scarred woman—a fighter and a survivor.

Everyone makes mistakes, grave ones that they may come to regret in the future. However, this doesn't mean they can't live with their sins. Sinners are also humans who deserve a second chance.

And so, I had decided to give myself that second chance at life. I would learn to forgive and love myself. But to do this, certain things needed to change within me.

My hair. My outfit. And my mindset.

Yesterday, I boldly trimmed my hair short, symbolizing that I was no longer the broken woman scarred by Micheal.

This new version of me was willing to do anything, follow any routine, and try every to-do list out there on the internet if it meant reclaiming my joyful self.

Now, I had a to-do list of everything I planned to try before returning to the office.

My to-do list included:

1. Trim my hair.

2. Change my outfit style.

3. Climb a mountain, and

4. Go skydiving.

Out of those four items, I had already accomplished the first goal yesterday, and now I was adjusting to the second item—wearing a tomboy outfit. Pants and hoodies were never my style, as I naturally preferred skirts over pants and high heels over sneakers.

But now, I craved something new, something different. I wanted my style to change for the better. Perhaps that was why tomboys often appeared stronger and tougher than girly women.

As for the third item on the list—climbing a mountain—I knew it would be practically impossible for me to accomplish alone, especially since I had never been to a mountainous region. Plus, there were certain things I would need that the internet might have overlooked. For instance, a sleeping bag.

Over the past four days, I had pondered on how to plan my trip and came to the conclusion that the only person who could help me at a fair price would be Julian, the tattooed neighbor.

_____

JULIAN'S POV

I opened the drawer of my dresser and selected a white sleeveless shirt. Having just finished my morning exercise, I planned to change and head over to flat D-40 for work.

The doorbell rang, prompting me to swiftly make my way to the living room and open the door. Olivia stood before me, dressed in baggy jeans and a polo shirt. She had recently cut her hair, which now barely reached her neck.

"Hello, number 42."

"It's Julian, miss. You look completely different, by the way."

"Yeah, I know I do. Just trying out something new for the first time. So, hey, Julian. I have an offer for you. I need you to accompany me to Mount Marcy."

"What for?" I asked promptly.

"For hiking. I'll cover the cost of transportation, food, and accommodation. In addition, you'll receive an extra $4,000. $1,000 as an advance, and the remaining $3,000 after the trip. Think about it, then come ring my doorbell and let me know your decision."

Her departure seemed imminent.

"I'll go," I said, halting her in her tracks. There was no need for me to ring her doorbell when I had already made up my mind. "When do you plan to leave?"

"On Saturday. The day after tomorrow."

"Fine. I'll need your phone number. If there are any changes to the schedule, please inform me as soon as possible."

"Oh, yes. That's better."

She left after sharing her phone number with me.

Rather than going to work at D-40, I returned to my house to continue my workout. I despised the tenant there—an impolite lawyer who barely paid me enough for my services.

With the money Olivia offered, I would no longer have to work for an asshole like him.

Perhaps it wasn't solely about the money she was offering me. I also needed to go hiking. I yearned for a breath of fresh air, a getaway from this suffocating apartment.

I admired Olivia. She was no longer giving up on herself. The changes I witnessed in her had managed to inspire me, and these days, I felt like I could lose my sanity if I didn't escape from this place.

Unfortunately, my dad wasn't as cooperative as I had hoped. He would rather see me begging on the streets than allow me to work for the company he was employed at—the Morrison Group. He didn't want me anywhere near him, fearing that I might tarnish the image and reputation he had built.