The Poison Morality by Stacey Kathleen Page B

handle in his hand and shivered slightly.
    “Do you sleep walk often,” Oliver placed the knife in the sink.
    “I wasn’t aware that I did at all,” her mind was fuzzy and he took her elbow leading her to the bedroom.  Already staggering from sleepiness, she mumbled, “I was dreaming about Sydney.”
    “Sydney?  Oh yes, the twin.”  He tossed the case on the floor and flung the wad of cash in it.  She crawled under the worn out blanket.  “Sleep now, we can talk about Sydney tomorrow, over dinner.”  But she moved her hands doing something under the covers and then she was kicking, producing her trousers and throwing them on the floor.  He picked them up and folded them carefully at the foot of the bed.
    “Not a date, I don’t date.”
    “But you eat,” he said, really smiling for the first time that day.
    “Yes,” she snored at the end of the word.
    He knew he couldn’t be here when she woke, not looking worn out and rough.
    A scrap piece of paper and pen sat on the little table under the window.  He scribbled a note: Dinner, tomorrow night.  Where ever you want to go.  7:00. O-- Setting the pen back down, he noticed the envelope.  His fingertips traced the curvy letters of her name and he left for home before the temptation prompted him to open it.

Chapter 9: Owen
    Somewhat disappointed, she realized from the silence that Oliver must have left sometime in the night, after the episode in the kitchen, obviously.  So she sleep walks, it was a non-issue.  If he wasn’t there she still wouldn’t have known.
    Sophie was more perplexed by the photo of the twins showing up than a sister she couldn’t recollect.  Instead of going back to the beginning, not eager to stir up any memories, she started with the present.  Asking the few neighbours she had all of which either saw nothing or replied “just you” was no help what so ever.
    She started dreaming about her, not sure if they were memories or what her subconscious made up.  But last night, half awake and half asleep she recalled that evening she was chased in the alley and the attacker’s words came back to her, forgotten previously in the commotion.
    “She told me to, she saw you,” he yelled.  But they were the words of a homeless man, possibly his drug addled brain would say anything to keep from being the guilty party.  “She saw you.”  Was that said to Oliver or Sophie and who was she , meaning Sophie? 
    Her eyes flew open.  How did she forget that?  Rolling over she swore.  The wound will never heal if she kept rolling over on it.  Sophie, still sleep addled, went into the bathroom pulling the shirt up and venturing to take the dressing off, looking at it in the mirror, and then she noticed it. 
    In her rush to leave she had left things in a mess.  Sometime while she slept he put the shower curtain back, the miscellaneous things that had fallen out of the medicine cabinet now were replaced, the sink empty again and the cabinet closed, and the towels were folded on the rack neatly.
    Sitting on the sofa, she looked around; he had picked up the easels that had fallen over, his empty beaker sat rinsed in the drainer and a small white piece of paper was propped up against the manila envelope.   She read it and tossed it into the fireplace; she would deal with that later.
    Picking up the mobile, she pressed the icons on the screen to call Oliver.  She stopped, becoming fully aware of what her subconscious automatically almost made her do.  What would she say?  “Hi Oliver, do you remember when I ran into you bleeding and the man yelled something, do you remember what that was?”  Surely, if she asked Oliver to go with her he would refuse.  He was coming tonight to take her out.  She started to dial again to tell him not to bother but what if she had something to tell him after going back to the alley.  No, she would wait.
    Better to go while there was still daylight.  Bundled in a new coat and scarf, she stood at