𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔱 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

You've Been Poisoned

[photo not mine, taken from pinterest]

WARNINGS:
Death
Swearing

You've Been Poisoned

My dad slides the cup of steaming coffee to me from across the table. I meet his eyes, studying the darkness beneath them.

How long has it been since he last slept?

How long has it been since I last slept?

I cannot remember.

The coffee draws me back to focus on what is being said to me. What my tasks were and how I failed them. I cup my hands around the hot mug and pretend to care about what my dad is saying to me. In reality, I don't give a shit. I did what I did and nothing can change that.

I take a sip of the dark liquid, nodding at the right moment in dads speech. Something about me not being good enough. How it was pointless to keep me after mum died. He says that I could never be trusted with the tasks he set for me, but by tradition, the oldest takes over the business after their parents are dead.

That is why I am sitting here now, facing dad across the table and sipping coffee.

I am the oldest of five children and I've had to be a mother to them for the past few months. The youngest is my little brother, Will, only nine months old and who never properly met his mum; she died a few weeks after he was born.

The next in line from me is one of my other brothers, just ten months younger and supposedly far better at his tasks than I am, Owen.

Next born was the second boy, one year younger than Owen, Jack. He's 'the mouse' because he can get to places without any problem. He can steal. That is always his task.

My little sister is five, Fran. She doesn't do much yet, just reads to Will and keeps him entertained. 'The pointless' is what they are.

Those are the people that dad uses for the 'family business'.

"It can get you killed," he says, as I drain my cup and slam it on the table.

I nod and tell him that that's why his wife is dead. That's why five children have been left with no mother. It is because of his 'family business'.

He looks me directly in the eyes after draining his mug of coffee. "I am sorry," he says in a horse voice. "I am so sorry." I look at him confused as he picks his cup up and tilts it so I can see into it.

There are three words written in the base: you've been poisoned.

I look back at him, panic rising in me. "Dad!" I say, shocked. Shock soon turns to anger and I shout. "HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME TO LOOK AFTER FOUR OF YOUR CHILDREN." He sits there, arms folded and looking relaxed.

He shakes his head before speaking, "you don't understand, read it again..."

I reread it. You've been poisoned. You've- fuck...

"Dad," I whisper. He reaches over and places a hand on my forehead.

Then something crazy happens: he smiles. "It won't be long darling until you're with mum."

I don't move. I don't know what to do in my last moments on earth. Instead, I just sit and look at my dad's smile as he slowly kills me.

He stands up and walks around the table, signalling for me to do the same. I stand, not yet feeling anything that would suggest I'm dying.

Maybe this is dying. Maybe you don't feel anything, you just slowly disappear into blackness. Or nothingness. Or whiteness.

He walks me to the door, opening it for me and letting me step outside first. I look up to the sky, clear blue and birds flying high above.

"This is bullshit, dad," I whisper. "What did I do so wrong?"

He stays silent as he closes the door behind him. I turn around and face him. He looks at me, considering something.

"What the fuck did I do so wrong?"

He rubs a hand through his hair before speaking. "You failed your tasks."

"Dad, please," I mutter, loud enough for only him to hear me. "I couldn't kill my youngest siblings. I could do the other people, I didn't know them - I couldn't put a gun to my nine-month-old brother's head. I couldn't put a gun to my only sister's head." I pause, waiting for him to challenge me. When he doesn't, I continue. "So that's why I'm dying? Because I couldn't do my task?"

"You agreed to kill anyone you needed to. That is what you signed when you were born first-"

"I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS!" I cut him off before he can continue. "I DID NOT ASK TO BE BOUGHT INTO THIS FAMILY. I DID NOT ASK TO BE A- A MURDERER!"

He straightens up. "But that is what you are," he says evenly. "You never disagreed, so that is what you became."

I take a shaky breath as a wave of dizziness washes over me. My knees buckle and I cannot support myself.

This is dying.

This is dying.

I look up to my dad, my boss, for one final time. Somewhere inside of me, I find strength. I remember what I have in the back of my jeans: my gun. The gun I was supposed to use on my siblings. I will use it now instead.

I reach behind me, staring into my dad's eyes, drawing out the gun.

In one movement, I take the safety off, aim and fire.

There is the familiar loud bang. I watch my dad fall to the ground as black spots appear in my vision.

I drop the metal weight from my hand as my head lulls to the side.

I take my final breath.

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