CHAPTER 1
Who made this? 5 year old Eva scrunched her brow.
Did she resemble a child? This apple juice was too sweet.
She swirled the cup absentmindedly, tiny legs swinging beneath the oversized kitchen chair.
She looked up.
Daddy stood behind the kitchen counter, he was very tall in his perfectly ironed black suit, dark hair slicked back with gel, humming some tune off-key as he flipped pancakes.
The house looked happy.
It wasn't.
“Did you sleep well, honey?” Daddy asked, glancing over his shoulder with his usual forced smile that always appeared scarier than comforting.
Daddy didn’t know how to smile, at least not genuinely.
But it wasn't his fault.
Eva shrugged. “Mommy didn’t tuck me in last night.”
He paused, just a second, but then continued with what he was doing.
“She was tired." He said, scraping the half-burnt pancake onto a plate and smearing it with way too much butter. “You know how Mommy gets.”
Eva stared at her juice.
He placed the plate in front of her and straightened his suit. “Eat up. You have ballet in an hour, and I have a meeting soon.”
She didn’t move.
“Daddy..” She said softly, blinking up at him.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
She tilted her head, like it helped her think straighter. “If someone kisses you after putting something in your drink.. does that mean they love you or hate you?”
His smile vanished.
“Why would you ask that?”
Little Eva looked up at her daddy, sipping on her apple juice. “Because Mommy kissed you last night after she poured that red stuff in your wine. The one with no label.”
Silence.
And then, just as calmly, she added. “Daddy.. I believe mommy poisoned you.”
| TWO HOURS LATER |
Aisleth stood in the backyard of her penthouse, the sound of gunshots driving the birds on the tree away. Each bullet accurately hit its mark on the wooden targets set up in front of her. Though her second time practicing, she was moving like she’d done it a thousand times before.
The door to the backyard suddenly burst open and she slowly tilted her head over her shoulder with a smile.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my charming husband.”
Sullivan staggered inside, looking more furious than usual. His hair was a mess, his shirt half-buttoned and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes were wild and his hands clenched into fists.
“Aisleth!” He shouted. “You poisoned me last night, didn’t you?”
Aisleth didn’t flinch.
Bang!
She hit another bullseye.
Click. Reload. Aim, then fire.
“Are you done?” She asked, dusting dirt off her hand.
Sullivan took a few steps closer, his jaw clenched. “You wouldn’t, I know you.”
Finally, she turned to him, one brow raised like he was boring her. “Wouldn’t I now?”
Without warning, he grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head, blood still dripping down the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were full of rage, searching for something in hers—any reason—why she might not have gone through with it.
“You told me you loved me yesterday!” He yelled, though his voice shaky. “You forgave me! For god’s sake, we f****d!”
Aisleth just smiled. "And?"
Sullivan’s eyes flashed with panic. "You screamed my name Aisleth." He said, shaking. "Was that a lie too? You told me how much you loved me while I was inside you. Was that a li—”
Aisleth chuckled. “What can I say? You’re just really good in bed, Sullivan. It made me utter things only a mad person would." Her smile vanished. "I could never love a man as disgusting as you."
Sullivan’s face turned red with rage. He punched the wall beside her head, his fist just inches away from her face, but she didn’t flinch. She barely even reacted.
“I begged for your forgiveness!” He shouted. “I came home earlier, I spent time with you and Eva! I did everything you asked! What else do you want from me?!”
Aisleth stared at him, face void of any emotion. Then, out of nowhere, Sullivan coughed again.
This time black blood.
It splattered on her shirt, but she didn’t move an inch.
"You.." Sullivan staggered back, his legs finally gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, his hands clutching onto his chest. He gasped for air, face twisted in pain.
Aisleth looked down at him, not a hint of sympathy in her gaze.
“You did this to yourself.”
He shook his head. “I p.. oisoned myself?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
She turned and started walking towards the door. “I’ll cook up a story for the press and your family. A wife poisoning her invincible husband? That'd be such a disgraceful story for you. It's the least I could do.”
With that, she finally walked out and locked the door behind her.
Sullivan stayed kneeling for a few seconds before falling backward onto the coffee table. It shattered beneath him, sharp shards immediately stabbing into his back, his scalp and neck. Blood pooled beneath him, painting the floor deep red. His chest rose in one last gasp before it halted completely.
His eyes fluttered shut.
His limbs stilled.
And he died.
But then.. his eyes suddenly snapped wide open.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before glancing at the door and then back to the ceiling again.
He blinked, then slowly, like he had all the time in the world, lazily folded one arm behind his head, the other arm on his stomach, lounging like he wasn’t lying in a pool of his own damn blood.
He chuckled.
“..Oh, my cute Aisleth..”
