Berries

Alice Melville sliced the blueberry pie and pulled out a piece onto a place. She got a fork and a napkin, holding them with the opposite hand. She then walked up the stairs. Her stomach was churning. She had been wanting to do this for days; maybe even months. But she had to wait, until the perfect moment — which happened to be today. This pie in her hand was no ordinary pie. To others, yes, it would be a blueberry pie; but to her, it was a blueberry pie with a special ingredient: Atropa Belladonna, commonly known as Nightshade. Just enough of them to kill someone. Easily.

She got to the top of the stairway, and headed down the hall to the left. She then knocked at the half-open door. She used her shoulder to pushed it open. Alen was laying on the bed, one hand on his forehead, the other massaging his temples. She looked over at her as she came in. He sat up, “Oh thank God. I’ve been waiting all day for that pie.” She said nothing and placed it next to him. It wasn’t until that moment, where she was only inches from him, that she noticed how tired he really looked. Dark red was formed under his normally bright blue eyes, that now were like muddy water. His nose was pink from irritation. And his pale skin was a light pink. He rubbed his nose and picked up the fork with his left hand. “Blueberry pie — my favorite.” He smiled at her. Alice remained silent. She was holding her breath, looking down at the pie. One bite was all she needed him to do.

(one bite)

He narrowed his eyes and put down the fork. Her stomach felt a jolt. He knows, was her immediate thought. “What’s with you?” He asked. She looked away. “I’m sorry I hit you, if that is what you’re being so bitchy about.” Her hand went up to her cheek. It was still swollen and red. In a few days, it might even began to bruise. She swallowed. One bite and she’ll be free. That’s all she needed.

He let out a deep sigh and picked the fork back up again. Her eyes flickered back to him. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, “Can I eat this in peace?” He motioned her to leave. Alice spun around and went to the door.

(don’t look back, or he’ll know)

She obeyed her conscious, closing the door behind her. She waited outside the door. It felt like eternity. Then she heard it: a loud choking sound. She ran back into the room. Alen was sweating profusely, his pupils dilated. He was shaking. “Wa-wha-what did you put in th-thiss?”  He yelled, his speech slurred. The pie was on the floor of the bed, splattered everywhere. “Aliss!” She ignored him and bent down at the crumbled pie. “Bitch, tell me n-now!”

A smiled formed across her face. “Nightshade.” He made a sound that sound like a hissing cat that was being strangled. She sat next to him. She brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead, and kissed it. “Goodnight,” she whispered. Alen let out a belt of gibberish. Then he felt back, unconscious. He was burning from the inside out. And soon, it would be over. For both him and her. Alice walked to the door. “See you in hell.”

And, for once, Alen Daemons was silent.