Vanilla

The shattering of glass, a clear depiction. The start of a new cycle. Another beginning.

“Mom! Nan is seizing again,” 

'What do we do?"

“She does it all the time, she’s probably fine,”

“Probably?” 

“Get her meds!” 

They were too late, I was already gone. 

The sun pierced through the sheltered canopy of trees and burned our eyes, but It was not our most prominent problem.  

Physical pain itself was nothing, not in comparison to the most deadly of sensations. 

Fear. 

There was of course fear of pain, that was certainly something to consider. That was also deadly, in a threatening sense. Fear of pain was worse than pain itself, most people would do anything to avoid pain, in many cases causing themselves more pain in the attempt. Most people fell prey to that, willingly giving up everything and anything they could forfeit to avoid the mere notion of pain. 

I was not most people. 

Fear did more than pain. Fear triggered everything. Nothing can escape it. Rationality was not an option. 

Fear rendered most people useless. 

I was not most people. 

In a few cases, fear was beneficial. Causing a needed burst of adrenaline, and of course, motivation. But alas, that ‘motivation’ fell into the fear of pain category. 

But like with most drugs, there were withdraws. 

Fear in large quantities had lasting effects on most people who experience it. 

For this instance, I was most people. 

I could smell the fear clotting the air like smoke. We were practically choking on it. 

The air also reeked of blood. We were used to that. It added to the fear of pain. These people knew this, they were smart.  

The zip ties around our wrists dug into the skin. It was quite painful, but still not the most prominent. That was fear’s domain. 

I braced my wrists against the sharp, knife-like edge of the device causing myself as much pain as possible, getting my blood to flow. 

Now and then, I would release my wrists. My pain would subdue, allowing myself a brief moment of relief, before I plunged myself into the agony again.

It absorbed all my focus so not even a quiver of fear could rule me. It kept me focused, it kept me smart. 

Sure enough, “Hey! Are you loosening those?” I watched as my soldier leaped off his horse and turned towards me. 

“No, I’m skydiving,” I said cooly. I just needed a spark, of fear or rage. 

“Don’t talk back to me little girl,” 

Rage it is then. But like any good recipe, I needed something to balance it out. I needed fear. “I dare you to come near me,” I stared at him, right in the eye, “You won’t think I’m so little then,” 

“Soldier,” The commander barked from ahead, “What’s slowing you down?” 

“Just an insolent little girl who doesn’t know her place,”  

“Show it to her, then,” The commander turned and continued down the path. 

“Come on then,” I turned around showing him my mutilated wrists, “Show me my place,” 

He gripped the edge of the tie and pulled as hard as he could. A show of dominance. How amusing. I bit my lip to hide my...discomfort. I snapped my wrist up, slapping him in the face. It felt good.

“YOU!” He roared, grabbing my arm forcefully, “Y-you dare!”

The rest of the captors trailed off in front of us, carving a path through the forest. No one would notice my absence, nor his. 

My laughter bubbled into hysteria as I swung my arms over my body like a Ferris Wheel, a trick I learned I was able to do. 

He already helped me, without knowing. The zip tie was tightened, all I needed to do was snap it by bringing it down over my head. 

And that it did. 

As soon as I was free, he met his demise.

I lunged at him, slamming him into the ground. I slapped my hand over his mouth to stop any feeble attempt to warn the others. Not that they would stand a chance against me. 

A pocket knife, hidden in the folds on his belt. Such a simple device. I did not prefer this, but it would have to do.

He was dead within a second. 

I wondered for a fleeting second if I felt remorse for taking his life but ultimately came to the conclusion that I did not.

I eyed the horse. The animal stood, staring at me. As useful as it would be, it could not move as silently as I could. I could not kill it, someone would look back and see it’s dead body. 

I left it, not having time to debate other options. 

Grabbing his belt, I vanished into the woods, a crimson coated knife in hand. 

~~~

I despised the woods. 

The quiet might be calming for most people. 

I was not most people.

The quiet bothered me, the absence of something that should be there. I sifted through the things I managed to grasp off of the guard’s body. The one that had my full attention, was a key card. 

Noah Smith. Such a basic name. So obviously fake. Did all the captors use false identification? 

I found a small pistol. I buried it without a second thought. Guns caused unnecessary noise, this was a stealth mission. 

The belt I grabbed held many places for an assortment of items. I noticed the holster for the gun, a thin pouch for a knife, and an odd metal ball with holes in it. 

And a lid. I popped it open. 

A bundle of pink flowers. They had five petals and a thick green stem. And a tiny canister.

And a label. 

I recognized the use of it almost immediately.

I dropped the flower and cursed, rubbing my fingers against my pants as if it would help. An alluring whiff, almost a vanilla-like fragrance emitted from it. 

I was not fooled. 

I buried the thing with the gun.

They were both equally deadly. 

~~~

As much as I loathed it, I knew my way around the forest. 

I walked in pace with the captors, the enemy. I was invisible in the trees, like a shadow. 

There were a great number of us. I could see them all. Tied in zip ties, towed behind a horse, just like I was.  I was free now, they would join me soon. 

The captor's vests were bulletproof. The barrel of a gun peeked out from the folds of their pants. I needed a plan.

Then, I heard a noise. 

Most people would hear the snapping of a branch, a whinny of a horse, and think nothing of it. 

I was not most people. 

The horse followed me. 

I should have killed it.

I could see it on the road, padding forward at a snail-like pace. It was near the back, hidden in the depths of the underbrush. Its black coat blended perfectly with the shadows of the trees. No one had seen it. Yet. 

When they saw it, the horse without a rider, they would know that something was amiss. 

I did not have a choice now. 

I flew through the woods unseen and came to a halt in front of the animal. Its ear barely twitched. The thing was unfazed. 

I leaped onto its back with precision, my landing was as silent as my approach. There was no possibility of getting out without the thud of horse hooves alerting others, especially ones so far back. I could not leave the horse here to be spotted. We were downwind, the other horses could not smell us either. 

I scanned my surroundings. The captors were no less than twenty yards ahead of me, their focus on the path ahead of them. How long until one of them took one fleeting glance behind them, to check on their prisoner perhaps, and saw me? 

I noticed something on the horse in front of me. A small leather satchel on the end of the saddle. I whisked around and sure enough, the same satchel lay on my horse, unopened. 

An odd metal container with holes in it. 

I popped it open. 

A bundle of pink flowers. They had five petals and a thick green stem, a tiny canister.

And a label. 

'Oleander'.

A poisonous flower. I recognized it for the second time. One singular leaf of this plant could kill a child.  

Imagine what this bundle could do. 

I was about to find out. 

I jumped off the horse, madly scooping up leaves and anything flammable and stuffing it into the canister.

"No one breathes, break out and run to the trees," I hissed the command in our people's ancient tongue. To the captors, it would sound like a bird chirping, and tree branch rustling, a chipmunk squeaking, but not to my people. I could sense their flash of recognition. I watched them twist their arms over their head as I did, and a hollow snap of forty zip ties breaking. 

And the mad dash to freedom. 

I snapped the canister in half, watching the flammable fluid soak the flowers. I whipped out a match I stored and prepared to jump onto my horse. 

The horse was not there. 

I whisked around and found the animal. It was contorting. 

The horse vomited, arching its back like a cat, whinnying, and braying, lashing out at an unknown enemy. 

I saw something pink on its lips and knew. 

It ate a flower. 

"NO!" I screamed out loud. 

All eighty heads of the horses and captors whipped around and met mine. 

I do not have time for this. 

I lit the canister, and then chucked it. It exploded on contact with the ground. 

Shrapnel cut through the air, slicing down my cheek, and hitting the horse square in the face. 

If it was not dead before, it was now. 

I ran. 

Smoke clotted the air. I forced myself not to breathe. I forced myself to keep running.

My feet slammed against the ground. My lungs burned, absolutely ravenous for air. I had not taken a breath since I opened the canister, and I did not intend on taking one now.  

I heard the many pounding of feet and hooves as they streaked after me. 

Soon, the poison took effect and they all dropped into vomiting fits. 

I could not hold it any longer. The air tore through my lungs as the taste of relief washed my throat. 

And something else. 

An alluring whiff, almost a vanilla-like fragrance...

I was downwind. It followed me. 

It was no longer the warm, vanilla smell from before. It was burnt, charred, and stank of burnt flesh. 

My body reacted instantly, my stomach contorting like the horse, vomit spewed from my mouth, I tripped over myself, slamming side-long into a tree.

I tried to get up. Another round of vomit hit me. I did not have any more food left in me, only bile. 

I collapsed into a pool of vomit. My head felt like it exploded with the bomb.

I thought I wasn't most people. 

I could feel the fear, it thundered through my body, taking full control of it. So much of it, everywhere. 

I needed to move.

I couldn't move. 

I needed to die. 

I couldn't die, why couldn't I die?  

I gave into my fear of pain, the pain of life. I wished the shrapnel hit me and not the horse. 

I couldn’t think rationally. My body’s instincts were all firing like cannons. My heart roared, adrenaline pounding for no reason. 

I tried in vain to not take in more of the poison. Hardly able to breathe with a constant waterfall of vomit spewing from my mouth, I took breaths when I could, which included oleander. The smoke felt like a scorching knife down my throat. 

The roar of my pulse thudded in my ears. I needed to feel disconnected from the world, a distraction. I focused on the sound, minimizing the rest of the world. My eyes burned and my vision went black without me closing my eyes. 

I was blind.

I felt my body lash out like the horse, I couldn’t see the enemy, that didn’t mean they were not there. 

I could feel the lasting effects of fear settling in and knew I would never be the same.  

~~~

"Nan! I made you a cake!" A child's voices touched the edge of my consciousness. This one belonged to Kyle. 

I felt something smooth and cold placed into my hands. I navigated solely through my other senses. 

It was a rounded pan, I could tell from the sound and feel of it, that it was glass. 

I wondered what kind of cake...I recognized the fragrance from someplace long ago, this was stronger, more prudent.

"It's a vanilla cake," Kyle cried. 

I recognized the fragrance from someplace long ago, this was stronger, more prudent. 

I dropped it immediately.

The shattering of glass, a clear depiction. The start of a new cycle. Another beginning.

I heard Kyle's shout and the screams of the other children meeting it, begging for medicine. 

It was too late, I was already gone.

NOTE: Every fact in this story about oleander is true, EXCEPT for the reaction time to the poison. People will see symptoms from between 1-3 days but for this instance, I didn't think it would be plausible to pause the story for three days and then come back...I don't know, don't hate me.