Rummaging in my black handbag, which had now slipped down from my shoulder to my wrist, I struggled to find my house keys. Entangling the steel keys around my finger, feeling the sharp curves engraved onto it, my hands reached the car handle when my peripheral vision spotted a familiar brunet. Him. I could not believe it when my neighbour walked straight past me without saying a word. Did last night not mean anything to him? Was I the only one who still thought about it and not him? Memories of last night playing like a film reel in front of my eyes, making my face flush.
“Elijah, are you sure about this?” my eyes met his, the colour of my cheeks becoming one of the wine placed in front of me. Was it the alcohol making my neighbour so confident or had he always been like this? “It’s going to be okay, I promise”, the rasp in his voice was something I had never heard before. His old soft voice was now husky and that’s when I knew he was serious. Has he always thought of me like this? “Come on, Claire” there was no missing the urge in his voice. Like he had been waiting for years. Bits and pieces of this morning reappeared when he had asked me for sugar because he had run out; that he needed to bake the cookies immediately, his voice sounded much gentler then. The same chocolate cookies that were packed before me, why did I have to. Looking up at his drunk face, I thought through his suggestion. I had never done something like this and here he was asking me like it was nothing, ‘he definitely had some experience’ I thought.
“Alright, fine. But don’t start ghosting me after this,” I paused, “In case something happens.” A wide grin formed on Elijah’s face – one that was creepy – making me question myself again. His small whisper made it even worse, “Don’t worry, it hasn’t happened before.” Helping me up from the beige couch, Elijah led the way towards his bedroom and I let out a sigh. From its appearance, the room looked pretty normal with a king-sized bed in the middle and the usual furniture, the walls decorated with frames. It was when he opened that grey door on the back wall when I felt all the air trapped in my chest. Rows of knives and guns lay across the shelves, each one having blood spots. Why was I doing this? Because he had convinced me I would be caught due to his cookies having my sugar in them? Because it was for the better? I was not too sure anymore.
Even after all that thinking, I stood in front of the dark porch which showed glimpses of the inside of the ordinary suburban home. Adjusting my mask, I rang the doorbell. As if on cue, a curvy, blonde woman answered the door with a sweet smile. ‘I shouldn’t do this’, the thought once again crossed my mind but it was a little too late. Just as I had practised, my mouth moved along to memory where I introduced myself as the new neighbour baking cookies for everyone, not forgetting to apologise for coming over this late. With our small talk coming to an end, I walked back to the car watching Elijah tracking my every move from behind the wheel. When I got in the car, he gave me a small, reassuring smile. I had just helped Elijah poison his girlfriend from the cookies made from my sugar.
Now watching him enter the house felt surreal, his demeanour of someone who had done no wrong. Him not even bothering to acknowledge me was what shocked me. Is that how insignificant last night was to him? And how had no one caught us yet? I had seen the news this morning and it was obvious the police were serious about this case. Taking a step out of my car, I had come to the conclusion that Elijah wasn’t just the boy next door but part of some dark and intricate web I could never understand. And one I never want to.