The Poison Morality

by Stacey Kathleen

  “So you gave her an occupation,” he was inches away from her now looking down at her.

  “An occupation, precisely, steady work, and an income. She had to…” she was searching for words.

  Both voices rose until he finished her sentence for her in a low, definitive tone. “Earn her keep?”

  The reaction on her face was the equivalent to being struck, mouth open, and hurt in her eyes. Oliver thought maybe it was Sophie but he dared not make a move. Her brows knitted together, frowning, she tilted her head. They stared at each other for several seconds, only the sounds of Declan’s breathing and wax pouring onto the floor broke the silence. In a strained voice she uttered, “I’m not like Declan.”

  He studied her face, trying to hide the hurt by blinking back tears that hovered on the edge. He could tell he genuinely hurt her feelings. “I believe you believe that,” he turned his back on her. “Where did I fit in?”

  Her lips became thin and she was restraining her anger, “You didn’t,” sitting on the stool, she turned his direction, “but there you were that night on the train. Sophie got careless and when she saw you, she panicked. I found you at the hospital, followed you. Ironically that was Sophie’s alley. I knew the path you took and the path she took. I waited when you left work that night. Anyway, I had hired Owen to chase her and just scare her.”

  “Did you think you could control him and what he did?” He asked nodding his head in disbelief.

  “He’s usually very harmless. That happened to both of us you know,” she said bending to the left a little.

  “What did you mean when you said it was for ‘her own good’? To keep her from going in the alley again?”

  “Oh Ollie,” she scoffed, “To find you, silly. I knew you couldn’t resist a damsel in distress.”

  “Why does everyone say that,” mumbling under his breath.

  “Because it’s true. I had to find out exactly what you knew about what happened on the train and what you were going to do about it.”

  “And once you knew I wasn’t a threat,” he asked, realizing Sydney was very resourceful and very much a puppet master.

  “By then Sophie was smitten with you but of course how could she not after your pursuit of her, all the attention, following her. She may have said she didn’t like it, but she did. You’ve shown her more caring and respect than anyone ever did. You fell for her and you do the same thing, too.” She smiled, and got a far off look in her eyes, “It’s like…”

  “Please don’t say…”

  “Kismet,” they both said in unison.

  “Do you try to seduce everyone,” he asked her, feeling helpless all of a sudden.

  “I don’t try,” she glared at him as if the suggestion was puerile, “It’s easy to seduce,” she illuminated, “All you have to do is promise or become the thing that person wants most. For Josie, it was respect, for Declan money, for Maurice sex, for you Ollie….”

  He held up his hand to stop her, she clamped her mouth shut. Welling up inside him was question after question, “It was you that told me to kill Mariella?”

  “Yes. Sophie always cared for her, you see. I found her collapsed in her flat, called an ambulance and gave them your name because I knew you would take good care of her until she died. You were so willing to help with that as well,” she had a smug grin. “There was no way Sophie was going to tell you to do it. Truthfully, I would have rather let her linger and suffer but she had to go for Sophie to move on, you were right about that.”

  “You were the sleepwalker?” His brows were knitted together in a scowl.

  “Sleepwalker?” She tried to recollect, “Oh, Sophie doesn’t sleep walk, it was just a game to get your attention.”

  “My attention,” he repeated in a low voice unbelieving the lengths she would go to for his attention when actually very little had to be done at all. His chest tightened, “Did…did you kill Sam?”

  “No, at least it wasn’t Sophie or I.”

  “Did he look like you,” Oliver and Sydney both turned to see Declan, awake. Blood stopped flowing and dried on his face from where she hit him with the gun, his head dangled and his eyes squinted, already bruising underneath.

  Oliver took a couple of steps towards him, Declan’s head hung loose but he looked up at Oliver waiting for a reply, obviously wanting to share information but not before confirmation. “Yes, quite a bit actually. Why?”

  Weakened and disoriented he mumbled, “It was Josie.” Oliver wasn’t sure he was following. Declan sneered and shook his head, while Sydney looked at him wide eyed.

  “No,” she scoffed, “she couldn’t have. Josie could never do that,” Sydney walked over to him, aiming the gun again. “No, you’re lying,” she turned to Oliver, “he’s lying Ollie, there’s no way.”

  “Funny, she said the same thing about you when I told her. After I gave you their names, they turned up dead, heart attacks, all of them. Did you think I didn’t know what you were doing and that eventually I would be on that list? She brought me here; I saw your science experiment and took some.” He acknowledged Oliver again, “She thought this Sam person was you.”

  “Why were you meeting with Sam,” Oliver turned his anger on Sydney, recalling the photo left for him when he confronted Sophie.

  “To find out what kind of a man you were. I…I knew Sophie was in love with you, he knew you best. That’s all I swear.”

  “So your relationship with Josie is what got Sam killed?” Oliver let out a mournful growl.

  “Sophie broke up with her not me,” she pleaded.

  “You’re both idiots.” Declan coughed, straining to speak but he was smug in what he was about to reveal, “She came to me blubbering after you broke up with her and then when she saw you with your boyfriend there at the club,” he looked around him, indicating his situation, “Well, a woman scorned, you know. That’s when I told her what you were doing and that I was next and you had to be stopped but she cared for you, you see.” He stopped, panting, his head tilting back now, trying to focus on them while they waited with bated breath for him to continue.

  Declan laughed a deep guttural laugh, “She wouldn’t hurt you,” he continued looking at Sydney, “I convinced Josie, if she poisoned your boyfriend,” he nodded to Oliver indicating who he was talking about, “you would come back to her. But the stupid bitch didn’t even do that right.”

  Oliver paced, thinking, his hands wiping the tired from his eyes. Looking out of the window, he saw a faint glow of sun on the horizon. “So because of Josie’s feelings for Sydney and mine for Sophie and a case of mistaken identity,” he looked at Sydney, “sort of, Sam was killed because she thought he was me.”

  “What she didn’t know was I wanted you for myself,” he said turning his attention back to Sydney, smirking.

  “You came here with a gun with the intention to kill me,” Sydney held the gun like an offering, hand open and outstretched, “remember?”

  “And you were going to poison me, it was self-defence.”

  “Wait a minute,” Oliver’s head was beginning to hurt, “if she killed Sam by accident, who left the photo of Sydney and Sam together?”

  Oliver looked at the pair of them, both faces blank, two sets of dark eyes bewildered and then they looked at each other for confirmation neither owning up to it and then…..

  “Ohhh,” Sydney was contemplating, smiling a knowing smile, “she’s smarter than you give her credit for.” Looking at both the men and the dumbfounded looks on their faces, she sighed exasperated with their lack of comprehension. “She didn’t poison the wrong person.”

  They both still stared at her. “If she killed Oliver thinking I loved him and we were an item, then what?”

  “You would be the main suspect if there was an inquiry,” Oliver said now seeing what Sydney was saying and deep down he knew she was right.

  Sydney nodded approvingly, “And if found guilty?"

  Oliver finished her sentence, “Would probably go to prison.”r />
  “Sly minx,” Declan acknowledged and Sydney smiled an appreciative smile, Josie wasn’t just another pretty face or witless, she played her cards very carefully to get Sydney back.

  Oliver was frowning harshly at her and she dropped the smile, not realizing it was there until she saw his disapproval. He considered, “I did exactly what she wanted me to do. She planted the seed, making me suspect Sophie, thinking Sophie was you and because she wasn’t the plan failed, Sophie and I reconciled.”

  No amount of hatred for the redhead that tried to kiss him in the dance club would bring Sam back and he would resolve those feelings later but he still had more questions for Sydney.

  “What about the man that attacked Sophie, how did he know you were coming,” he couldn’t bear to look at her when she answered.

  “Actually that was me,” Declan said.

  “But, I sent the photo, which he never got,” Sydney claimed. “Stupid Owen delivered it too late and Sophie found it outside the door.”

  “So you both had the idea to put Sophie in danger.” Oliver was aghast.

  “I thought he would do her over pretty good, that’s all. So by the time I got to her she would be weakened or terrified.”

  Sydney seemed horrified, bothered that they both had the same idea, and proving Oliver’s theory that they were alike. Oliver looked at her knowingly. “After what happened with Sam, you still thought she was guilty, I had to put her in danger again so you would come back to her, ironically, foiling Josie’s plan.”

  He was on her in a second, yelling at her, “She could have been killed!”

  “I know, I….”

  “What! She doesn’t have to be in danger for me to want to be with her.” He shook her.

  “She tried to seduce him. Can you imagine Sophie trying to seduce anyone? So I came out to do damage control.”

  “And what was your big idea? What did you think he would do?”

  “I thought he would confront her, frighten her, and she would go running to you. And she did,” she pleading, justifying.

  Oliver let her go, giving her a little shove that made her step back but his feet were firmly planted, pointing at her, “Do you realize you have done more harm than Declan could ever do to her?”

  Sydney had the hurt look again and then anger, nostrils flaring, “No, you’re wrong.” Teetering, she felt dizzy.

  Oliver saw the effect, “Everything you have done has put her in danger, her life at risk.” He poked her on the chest, provoking her.

  “No,” she stepped forward, “if it wasn’t for me she would have died on the street!” She started pacing, nodding her head, disagreeing.

  “You don’t know that. You turned her against herself, is what you’ve done. No friends, no family, no one.”

  “Except you!” Stopping abruptly, she faced him.

  “Except me, and I guess I will thank you for that. But right now,” bending over, he was eye to eye with her, “I want Sophie to come out now. Sophie,” he said addressing the real person, “please come out now.”

  Sydney’s left hand flew up, aiming the gun at Oliver’s chest, her hand shaking slightly. Oliver backed away, surprised. “Please,” he pleaded with her, his hands up, “you just need me now, we can start a new life together, I promise.” Oliver walked up to her the barrel pressed into his chest, he caressed her cheek, she closed her eyes turning into his hand.

  “I know her better than you do,” he said through clenched teeth, “and I love her more.”

  “No?” Her voice was shaking, her hand rocked unsteadily from the weight of the gun.

  “Yes.”

  One tear fell from her eye and glided gracefully down her cheek, she was shaking her head at him. The gun was heavy in her hand, she trembled now, her head bowed, and then horrified, looking at the gun and then Oliver. Her hand dropped to her side and she whimpered his name, “Oliver?”

  He smiled with relief and wrapped his arms around her so that his head rested on hers and he rocked her, sobbing against his chest, her tears making his shirt cling. “Please don’t be angry with me. I heard you yelling.” she cried.

  “Not at you darling.” He released her, wiping the tears away, cradling her face. “Not at you.”

  “I’m a nutter. I swear, I didn’t know,” she choked the words out.

  “Everything’s alright now,” he kissed her forehead.

  “This is all very touching but can you just let me out of the chair now,” Declan yelling subsided to just a quiet plea.

  Startled, Sophie jumped back, her left arm jutted out; pointing the gun at Declan, wide eyed and scared and he knew it. The weight of it was awkward in her left hand and she switched to the right hand which was steadier but not by much.

  Oliver reached over and taking the gun, standing stable in front of Declan, the standoff between them now. Sophie waited next to him, trying to stifle more tears than he ever saw her weep, trembling uncontrollably, the cause in front of him and Oliver could finish it for good, for Sophie’s past and their future. Declan was the root of everything and he had created the monster, Sydney.

  Declan realized from the very serious look on this man’s face that there was no doubt he would pull the trigger. He gave one last attempt to save himself, “Give her back the gun.”

  “Why would I do that?” Oliver’s voice was low and angry.

  “If she wants me to die then let her pull the trigger.”

  “Do you think,” he turned to Sophie, who was trying hard to be strong, “that she wouldn’t pull the trigger because you would be wrong,” Oliver spoke slowly. “Let me tell you the difference between me and her.” Oliver leaned over and put his hand on the back of the chair and stared Declan in the face. He put the barrel of the gun to his forehead. Declan gulped as Oliver’s eyes narrowed.

  “Sophie would shoot you in the shoulder, or the arm, or maybe she would castrate you,” Oliver pushed the gun to the other man’s crotch for emphasis. “And then she would leave you here to die slowly and painfully, bleeding to death. She would injure you just enough so the life blood would trickle out of your body. Not to make you suffer,” Oliver shook his head, “no, not to make you suffer but despite the fact that you did the most appalling things to her, she still doesn’t like to watch her victims die, not even you.”

  Oliver stood up. “Now me? I would shoot you in the head or the heart so I ask you. Would you rather die quickly or slowly?” Inside Oliver’s heart was pounding, he knew what he had to do. Declan didn’t speak but looked at Oliver revealing a man who had accepted his fate.

  Oliver looked down at Sophie, speaking directly to her, his arm still aiming at Declan. She was holding back, beginning to hyperventilate but he spoke quietly and held her cheek with his free hand, “Everyone has been poisoned by someone, whether it’s been abuse, neglect, lies, loss, lack of love, or a deadly substance…”

  Oliver slipped his hand around Sophie’s head and covering her eyes, bending his arm, enfolding her into him, his voice resonating through her, “Sometimes there’s no antidote,” he took a deep breath and held it, gripping her firmly to stop her trembling from affecting his aim and with a kiss on top of her head, “sometimes there is,” with that he pulled the trigger, startling her.

  The sound rang out loud in the stillness only broken by Sophie’s outburst of tears, she clutched Oliver and when her knees gave way from under her, he dropped down with her, taking deep breaths now, coming to terms with what he just did and the hysterical woman in his arms. Giving her a few minutes to release years of pain, he dropped the gun on the floor and held her, kissing her head and whispering reassurances she didn’t hear, his own tears falling into her hair.

  He held her face, she was crying hysterically but somehow he had to get her settled down enough to get the hell out of there. “Sophie, shhh,” he held her tightly rocking her again, shushing her, “listen,” but she kept repeating over and over “I’m crazy, I’m sorry, I’m mad.” She was clutching him desperately,

&n
bsp; “Please,” he was beckoning, holding her to look at him, “It’s ok, I know you’re confused and scared,” she was taking deep breaths, trying to gain some composure, “you don’t have to be scared anymore and we need to leave and we need to do it now.”

  She was taking great gulps of air and trying to steady her nerves. She didn’t even try to wipe the tears away and looking a frightful mess but she didn’t care and there it was, the pity look she feared and she stopped crying so that it would go away. “Okay,” she stuttered, hyperventilating, and he smiled at her reassuringly.

  Once she calmed down a little, he stood her up, he heard her gasp. Turning the direction she was looking, out the window, they were both amazed. The sunrise revealed in the back garden a lush, well-kept mecca of flowers perfectly tended in the middle of this broken down abandoned part of the city. A fence separated it from the desolation around it. There were blooms all over, a mixture of colourful flowers clustered thoughtfully just so. Tulips swayed sweetly in the breeze, trimmed hedges lined the fence, and a bird bath in the middle filled from the rain of a few days ago. Sydney had created and lovingly tended this garden. This was the outlet she needed for the dark times that consumed her while Sophie had her art.

  “Someone might have heard that. We really need to get of here.”

  Sophie looked around, avoiding the slumped figure in the chair; she noticed the hat box and grabbed it. Oliver started knocking candles over until flames consumed the surroundings and smoke filled the air. He took her hand and pulled her through the back door, through the beautiful garden about to be destroyed and out beyond the overgrown bushes, where he crouched down, looking to see if he saw any movement.

  Sophie paced back and forth, still crying, still mumbling, and thinking out loud. “I think its best we split up,” she said biting her nails, her eyes red and swollen.

  “No, absolutely not. All evidence will be destroyed. Everything will be fine.”

  “I’ll meet you at your flat, we’ll go separate ways, I’ll meet you there.”