What You Did in the Dark

After successfully taping the ripped pages back in their respectful places, the three teenagers talked about what they did that day. Aleria’s gaze kept flicking towards Oliver’s eye. She would occasionally ask if he’s sure he’s alright, and when he would answer ‘yes,’ she would be quick to say, “are you positive? It looks pretty painful,” or something along those lines.

Oliver was enlightened that Aleria cared so much for him. It made him happy to think that he had such a nice friend, such a pretty friend that cared for him as much as she did. He felt special, as if he was needed for once. He hadn’t felt needed or significant in anyone’s life before. He thought very lowly of himself, and it just goes to show everytime he attempted suicide.

Sunday would mark two weeks of cleanliness for Oliver—he hadn’t cut or attempted in almost a full two weeks. He felt very proud of himself, that was almost a record for him.

Aleria announced that she had to go home and hugged the two boys goodbye (her arms staying wrapped around Oliver for a bit longer than usual, thought he really didn’t mind). She promised she’d be over the next day, and that she’d bring her face paint and makeup so that she could zombify the three of them as much as possible.

"She’s something," Tom chuckled goodheartedly as him and Oliver were alone in his room once again.

"Yeah, she really is," Oliver mumbled happily. Truth was, he was still dazed from the comfy hug that Aleria had smothered him with. He liked hugging her so much. He liked the way the top of her head barely touched his chin, and he loved the smell of her hair. He liked that she looked absolutely beautiful without any trace of makeup.

"You like her, don’t you?" Tom asked.

Oliver was silent for a long time. Once he thought about it, what wasn’t to like? She was a kind-hearted, beautiful girl, his parents loved her, and even though she didn’t look the suicidal type, she shared the exact same problems and antics that he did. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy everytime she was around, and whenever she came over, a smile forced its way onto his lips at the first sight of her.

"Yeah," Oliver decided, "yeah. I do."



"So here’s the plan," Aleria explained, "I found these skeletal ribby things in my attic that my mom sometimes used for halloween parties…you strap them onto your chest, and put on a ripped up shirt and it’s automatic zombie.

"And then I have this." She pulled out a bag of face paint and other accessories. "It’s…proffessional stuff, I guess you could say, my dad was an extreme makeup artist and did stuff like this down at Halloween fares and parties…he made them look really authentic."

Tom and Oliver were impressed at all the stuff she had. They were excited, to say the least, about the night ahead of them, it would be the first Halloween Oliver would get to spend with an actual friend that liked him.

While they got busy finding old shirts and putting cuts in the front, Aleria got her stuff out and began working on her own profile. She painted an intricate line across her neck, adding wax around the area to make it look as if it were spit open and running fake blood from the “wound”. She darkened the circles of her eyes with eyeshadow and paled her face with foundation until she looked exceptionally creepy.

Oliver (who was having trouble with his ribs) stole a glance at what she was doing and his breath caught in his throat. Even as a zombie, she looked unmistakingly beautiful.

When she spoke to him, he was snapped back into reality. “Need help?” She asked.

Oliver merely nodded, unsure of what to say. The gash on her throat looked so real. Aleria was tugging his shirt off of him before he could process what was happening, and suddenly he felt very vulnerable.

"Hold this in place," she ordered. Oliver held the rib piece against his inked chest as Aleria walked behind him and pressed the velcro in place. She was blushing so hard at the sight of Oliver completely shirtless—she took advantage of the fact that she was behind him. "Now put your other shirt on. Need help, Tom?"

Tom seemed to be fine with his attire. “I think I’m good,” he said. “Wow, you’re amazing at that, Aleria. It looks so real…” he marvelled at her throat.

"Do you want any injuries?" She beamed.

"Nah, I want just a creepy look. You know?"

Aleria nodded and started tinting his face, making him look sick and unhealthy. Tom was thoroughly impressed when she was done.

"So," she huffed, turning to Oliver, "zombie or cuts?"