Old Stories: Poison (written in 2014)

Her mother had passed away several years ago, and her father had never recovered from it. He drank himself to an early grave, leaving her all alone. Misty Neocene had met him, then. He seemed so nice, so supportive. He was kind and handsome, didn’t mind that she was a bisexual woman at all, and was just perfect.

It wasn’t until their wedding night when she found out the truth of it, and by then, it was too late. She had always been shy, always weak. Her husband, Jonah Madison, was a cliché, but it was the truth. He was a drunken bastard that treated her like a servant, forcing her to quit her job at the animal center so she could stay at home and tend to his needs.

The abuse was physical,emotional, and sexual. He always sneered at her when she cried out no as he forced himself on her, saying that a wife could never deny her husband sex. It got even worse when she found that she couldn’t bear children. He beat her and locked her in the basement for a week after that, but that had been his mistake.

Her mother’s things had been stored down there, gathering dust. Nursing her wounds, ignoring the pains in her stomach where he had punched her repeatedly (“You can’t give me a son, so I might as well use it as a punching bag, you worthless bitch!”), she went through the journals she had found.

It was the third year of her marriage, and she was twenty-four years old. The first journal she had found revealed a side to her mother that Misty never knew about. Her mother, Miranda Neocene, was an Assassin. Part of a Brotherhood shrouded in myth and shadow, she had spent most of her life taking lives, to protect the peace of the world.

She found a book on poisons, too, and started reading. Not for the first time, Misty had dark thoughts regarding her husband. For the first time, however, she had a way to make them a reality.

Most of the poisons were created from flowers. Flowers that Misty had access too. A small flower bed was the only thing her husband let her have, really. It was hers, and it contained flowers her mother had grown while alive.

Flowers that could be turned into deadly poisons.

When she was finally released, Misty acted the broken housewife. She didn’t fight her husband in anything, meekly doing as she was told, all while preparing the flowers she would need. When they were ready, she crafted the poison.

It was a nasty one, designed to form an aneurysm in the brain. It would take a month of doses, but that was okay. She cooked the food, she had access to his beer because she went shopping for him. The first doses were in his curried fish and evening beer (she was repulsed by that), and as the book had said, he didn’t even notice.

She didn’t dare smile as she ate her own fish and drank her water, he would only get violent again. In a month, she would be free of him, and it would look natural.

It was a month later, and Misty was returning to the house after her husband’s funeral. A brain aneurysm, they said as they consoled the ‘be-grieved’ Mrs. Madison. She had put on the act of a grieving widow, and she had even cried real tears. That had surprised her.

She entered her home and locked the door behind her, leaning against it and staring up at the ceiling. With a hollow laugh, she started her life over.



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