For Genevieve

Trigger Warning: contains death and child loss.

I never thought I would have to do this. My hands shook slightly as I poured the hot tea into one of my nice blue marble teacups. 

Richard looked over at me briefly, smiling his normal condescending smirk. 

“Tea almost ready? It’s been 10 minutes since I asked for it.” He snapped as his gaze returned razor-focused to the crossword section of the newspaper that he must do every morning. 

I nod gently, I took my time this morning. 

“Almost my dear,” 

Once he looked away I knew this was the only opportunity I had. I quickly poured in the strange powder Jen from the apothecary gave me. 

“Just a pinch,” I said quietly to myself. 

I wish I could remember exactly what it was but it doesn’t matter. It only has one purpose, to kill my husband. 

Once the powder dissolved I hoped for the best. I have no proper knowledge on how to conduct this sort of thing. I only had my deep fury to guide me. 

I picked up the tea glass and once he saw he snapped his fingers as if I could walk any faster. I sat the cup on the table beside him. I wasn’t about to hand it to him, he can work for it. 

“Bitch,” he murmured. 

Not a thank you, but I am not surprised by that. The fact that he insulted me is making this a bit easier. 

Richard and I have been married for 10 years. We wed in 1921 and for a while we were happy, I think. But then I suppose life had other plans for us both. I caught him after a night of drinking smelling like someone else’s perfume.

 I knew it wasn’t mine because I would never buy such a gross smell. 

I ignored it for a while, kept it hidden in the back of my mind. I had other lovers of my own after that. I knew I could no longer love the man I married. 

Marriage to me now is a sham. Part of the reason we wed was that my father practically insisted on it. 

“You’re not getting any younger, Sue.” He would say, I remember his voice so clearly now.

Together, Richard and I had three children, Genevieve, Adam, and Richard Jr. If you ask him, however, we only have two boys.

My only daughter, the joy of my life was now gone. There was only one person to blame and he was my husband. Once Genna was born Richard was convinced she was not his. He only wanted sons and of course, being the head of the household, he had the final say. 

I always thought that was bullshit. He knew that girl was his but he couldn’t fathom being a father of a woman.

When I was pregnant with Genna, he was very attentive, as he was with all of my pregnancies. We already had the two boys so he assumed I was a boy-making machine. 

One night a week after Genna was born she went missing. The empty crib haunted me then and still shows up in my dreams every night. Richard looked unbothered, unworried, he took my shoulders and shook me as I cried uncontrollably. 

“You have two sons” 

He said to me.

“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson across the street just had a baby. Please do send them our congratulations.” 

His beady eyes stared into mine so intensely I knew right then and there that Richard was the one behind this. He had given my baby up and I knew then I would never be able to forgive him.

I stand here now a shell of the woman I used to be. I grew up nice and kind. I always saw the best in people and I think that was mostly my nurturing mother though. She was the first light of my life. I always wanted to be like her, she was an angel. 

But now, I see that this is the path I’ve chosen to go down and once I do this, there is no going back. 

I watched Richard as he took a sip. He savored the taste. I continued to stare and wait for the effect I was promised. 

It was too late to go back now and I thought I would feel remorse or regret as I waited but I felt nothing at all. It’s like I was numb for every emotion except rage.

Everything about him annoyed me now. It's hard to remember a time where all I wanted was to look at him, be around him. 

I would breathe him in like he was nicotine and I was an avid smoker. 

But now he makes me sick. He is aging and it is not a good look on him. But, it's not the looks that bother me so, it's the fact that the man I married might as well be dead because there is nothing left of him in the man I see now.

He went in for another sip but he dropped my nice marble glass right before it could reach his lips.

This is it.

He began to cough and his complexion turned pale. It was a very frightening view. I think my face showed everything I was feeling. 

He looked into my eyes shocked as if he knew. 

“This is for Genevieve,” I said as I stared right back into his fading eyes. 

I needed him to know why I did this. How it could all be avoided if he just accepted his own blood. I waited for the regret to kick in but it never did. 

I then turned my back on him just as he used the last strength he had to reach for my arm. 

The suitcase I left right by the door was a good idea. 

I thought this through.

I turned once more to glance into the living room where I left him. He was gone and so was a part of me. The naive girl he married was dead too.

I walked out of the place I called prison and I never once turned back again. 

Years went by and no one knew what happened to Richard Hillson and me his wife Susan Hillson that early morning.

I am

free.