“Turn that shit down!” Hogan roared from the living room. “We listen to that fucking trash all god damn day.”
I turned the volume down with a poisonous smile, the movement making my cheek sting.
Heading into the attached garage through the door attached to our kitchen, I went to the chest freezer shoved against the far wall in search of Hogan’s favorite: ham steak.
When I pulled out the ham wrapped in white butcher paper and shut the lid, the utility shelf behind the freezer caught my eye. Dozens of plastic bottles—all various auto fluids and cleaning supplies—sat there, but a bright red bottle in particular struck a chord with me.
Antifreeze.
I stared at the bottle for what felt like forever as “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” played from my phone in the kitchen.
Clara saves herself.
The words from Bastion’s note played in my head on a loop.
“Clara saves herself,” I whispered beneath my breath as I reached for the antifreeze, tucking it in my apron pocket and retreating back to the kitchen with the ham I didn’t intend to serve.
For the first time in a long time, I enjoyed making Hogan dinner. I knew by the time the night was over, he’d be dead. And I’d be free.
I unwrapped the ham steak in the sink and stood over it for a moment. It was like I’d finally unlocked the box at the back of my brain where I’d carefully tucked all my trauma away for the past two years and allowed it to spread through me like poison.
My hand slipped in my apron pocket, fingers teasing the lid of the antifreeze.
Dark images played in my head as I imagined Hogan’s dead body slumped over in his La-Z-Boy… A cold smile curved my mouth.
If I went through with the dark thoughts whirling in my head, Hogan wouldn’t have a chance to enjoy his ham. And after this nightmare was over—if I could escape it—I’d never eat ham again, even if there was a gun to my head.
“Where’s my fucking eggnog?” Hogan’s drunken roar pierced my murderous thoughts wrapped in cheery Christmas music.
The smile crystallized on my lips.
Whatever hesitation I had before was gone.
Tonight I was going to kill the monster. Fuck Hogan. Fuck the consequences.
Even if I got caught, freeing myself of Hogan would be the best Christmas present ever.
“I’m making it now, babe! Just had to put the ham in the sink to defrost.” I went to the fridge, pulled out the bottle of boozy eggnog to find it mostly empty. Of course. Hogan downed thisshit like water. I went to the pantry and pulled out a fresh bottle among the stock I’d learned—the hard way—to always keep on hand.
I made him drinks every night and just like every other night, I grabbed a glass, poured the eggnog, added an extra two shots of brandy, a sprinkle of cinnamon and an ice cube shaped like a candy cane.
The only thing new was the half cup of antifreeze I added to the glass. Hopefully it would be enough to kill him. I’d watched enough TV and read enough dark books to know antifreeze didn’t have much of a taste and it didn’t take much to kill a man. Making it the perfect poison.
The only thing was that it gave the drink a faint green hue. Hogan was probably too drunk to notice.
I walked into the living room, approaching my fiancé from where he sat in his chair beside the Christmas tree with that bright smile like I always did; playing into the role of the good, obedient spouse he wanted me to play. Meanwhile, I imagined how he’d looked minutes from now, slumped over his chair, the light gone from his eyes.
My smile grew as I offered him the glass. “Here you go, babe. Made with love.”
The hog farmer eyed the liquid inside, his ruddy nose wrinkling. “Why’s it green?”
Fuck.
“Uh… I added some food coloring. Thought I’d make it more festive since Christmas is right around the corner.”
I forced my hands steady, refusing to let my nerves give me away. A single bead of sweat slipped down my brow, but my smile stayed on as “Last Christmas” carried from the kitchen, filling the tense silence.
Relief swept through me as he finally took the offered drink with a grunt.
