~~~This is a prequel, spin-off from Ties~~~
Briar Hayes has lived her entire life being polite, never daring to express the crazy and wild thoughts running laps in her head. At almost twenty-five, stuck in the throes of monotony, she finally snaps...
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"Fuck. You."
Multiple rounds of incessant profanities fire from my mouth. I continue filling a trash bag with yet another tainted snack from my cupboard. Why does everything I have—may contain tree nuts?
"I hate you." I grip the Tupperware housing the evil candy which threatened to take one of the best people away from me. In a huff, I pop the lid and send the delicious—no, debilitating—chocolate-covered poison into my sink.
I debate running the disposal, not wanting to wake my—thank fuck—recovering boyfriend. Boyfriend seems silly. My man? Knight in shining armor? Saving grace? All the above. But when I hear the sonorous hum of Trey's snores, sawing from the bedroom, it's annihilation time.
Because he doesn't snore. Perhaps it's from the several doses of antihistamines they injected into his IV. And don't get me started on that nightmare. It infiltrated. You know, sort of like what the raw peanut butter did to his body. Yes, raw. Who in their right mind makes that? From scratch! But yup, they had to stick Trey multiple times, then keep him there for hours of observation.
Another burst of anger for his allergy and all things nuts—minus. No. I can't even crack a joke—soars down my arm as I whack the switch. The grinding gears of my garbage disposal spin to life. I listen as the blades pulverize the candies, so the water whooshing from the faucet can rinse them down the drain.
And I don't stop.
I go through everything, ransacking the fridge, and looting the freezer. Deuces, hazelnut creamer. What was I thinking? Honey Nut Cheerios? I'm a monster.
One by one, I empty each thing in the sink or slam them into the trash—contents depending. The small kitchen looks as if someone busted into the place and went apeshit.
Oh... right.
After I've checked every label three times, and then a fourth, because, why in the hell would fruit snacks contain nuts? I mean, duh, they don't. But can't there be a specific belt where they keep the shit separated so people don't fucking die?
I'm losing it. Well aware.
There's something strange happening inside my body; this feeling that makes it difficult to breathe. Short and uneven puffs of air hammer from my nostrils. There's an odd tingling in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. My chest is tight, yet fluttering at the same time. And I'm not sure, but I might throw up.
I fall to my knees, not even flinching when they thud against the tile floor., then my arms wrap around the trash can.
Ain't pretty.
The puking rally lasts about twenty minutes before there's nothing left. I rinse my mouth after brushing my teeth—three times—and my gums and tongue. Over and over and over. I wonder if I'll have reflux and traces of peanut butter might slide up or whatever they do. Could that hurt him? Better take something. Wait! Does medicine contain nuts?
