The Poison Morality Read Free Page B

poison is her only friend, providing for her, enabling her to survive.  It shows up, does what it’s supposed to do and a deposit into her account appeared from an anonymous source.  An endowment she doesn’t question, sometimes its hundreds, sometimes its thousands, it didn’t matter how much, it was better than zero.   And she was all too familiar with zero.
    The top of the vial took little effort to remove and dipping the needle in, Sophie shook off the excess and put the sheath back on.  When the snow melts I’ll be coming for you, she thought, looking at the photo one last time and sliding it back into the package.
    The smell of the orange was pungent.  Walking into the kitchenette, she flipped the switch for the kettle and proceeded to prepare a cup of tea.  Stomach growling, she unconsciously peeled the orange waiting for the water to boil.  The mist of the broken peel sprayed across her hands, making them sticky.  She pulled the sections apart, licking the juice off of one absent mindedly.  How much poison was left on the needle?  The skin and the blood of the victim for whose life it had taken still on it and now deeply embedded inside the orange. 
    The kettle switched off, signalling it had boiled and she opened the rubbish bin and threw the contents of the orange into it on top of take away containers, and reached for a yogurt out of the tiny little fridge instead.  Ugh, she didn’t even like oranges, just the juice and once the nectar was emptied the orange itself no longer had any appeal.
    Turning off the lights, the room was brightened only by the street lights reflecting on the snow.  She yawned and threw the empty container in the bin and abandoned the tea for bed, nothing else to do.  Happy Christmas Sophie and off to bed she went.  She was drained, she didn’t’ know how or why.  Maybe being cooped up caused the energy to be wasted and it just dissipated like her thoughts.
    Taking off her trousers, she lay in the dark in her tee shirt, no matter how cold it was, her legs had to be free to sleep.  Why buy something fancy to sleep in, she never figured out why people loved their pajamas and nighties so much.  Did the handsome man wear pajamas to bed?  Or did he sleep in nothing at all?  With that random thought, that made her blush, she drifted off to sleep with the toll of the midnight bells around the city, signalling Christmas had arrived and she was asleep before the last chime rung.
    ***
    Oliver walked into the hospital’s casualty; offering to work on holidays so that those who managed to have families could be with theirs.  While in the locker room, he wondered how they managed it and he couldn’t.  They all worked the same long, tiring hours but some even had children.  The feeling of emptiness came and he shook it off so he could get on with work.  Typically holidays were busy in casualty.  Winter, especially around the holidays, brought on bouts of sadness and sickness of the lonely, every year it was the same.  Oh yes, it was going to be a hectic night.
    “Are you working with us tonight, love?”  Berta, an older nurse smiled widely at him.  Her countenance was always pleasant.   Oliver admired her for her bedside manner and her ability to put the suffering at ease.  Even those considered a lost cause, she managed to comfort them.  There was a sort of peace about her that drew people and her love of helping others fulfilled her.  They shared that in common.  The grin on her face made deep dimples on her rosy cheeks making him smile too.
    “I’m afraid so.  You’ll have to put up with me all night,” he replied, winking at her.
    “I can put up with you anytime darling,” she giggled.
    Oliver just laughed and leaned one elbow on the counter.  “So how is life treating you these days, Berta?”
    “Oh, same old thing,” she sighed.  “At least I’ll be home in time this year to see the grandchildr en open their gifts.  I’ve made a special