The Restaurant

I remember that day very clearly. The day Monica died. It was a normal day for us. We went out to lunch to gossip about our lives. She ordered the steak as usual. When it arrived, it looked odd. I tried to warn her, but she didn’t care “food is food” she declared. The next thing she knew she was screaming in pain. Trying to get something, probably poison, out of her throat. Life drained from her eyes as her body cried for help. I couldn’t help her. The waiters couldn’t help. The doctors couldn’t help. I couldn’t help.

Since that day, I decided to take her killer out the way Monica died. I got the strongest poison I could on the black market, cyanide. Their very cells will stop working, the only mercy they have is that it will be fast. Unlike my dear Monica who died slowly in my arms.

The chefs working that day was short:

Blair Nordack

Marge O’Sullivan

Ryan Pompei

Brandon Slick

I don’t have enough time to research who made her that dish, so I’ll just have to kill all of them.

Blair started out that day with drugs in her system. Last week was a total mess. The doctors told her her mother only had a week to live, and she probably was going to die that day. Mrs. Nordack wasn’t the best mother, but she was always there. That is, until today. Unfortunately, her boss ordered her to come in today because she had been on sick leave for too long.

Marge was supposed to be head chef when she came in that day. She was supposed to be running the restaurant. However, her boss wanted to stay for “just one more day”. It had been a year of “just one more day”. Marge was frustrated beyond belief.

Ryan, or Head Chef, had worked nights and days just to cover Blair’s shifts. He hadn’t seen his family in a long while, but if he visited them without any money, he knew they would beg him to go back. He couldn’t get any higher paying job, and if he could, he doesn’t have time to go off work. He missed seeing his beloved daughter. She was always so strong.

Brandon was in the middle of a messy divorce and custody battle. Every day he worked, he cried. His tears frequently spilled into the food, making every dish a bit too watery. He was just a mess, and the Head chef pushed him too hard.

All had opportunity and motive…of course, I didn’t know it at the time, but I would research further later to find out.

Anyways, I walked to the restaurant, pretending to be a new hire. I had four little pockets of cyanide in my left hand. The pain of Monica fueling my legs to walk. Each step was closer to the revenge of Monica. Adrenaline filled my body where sleep could not possibly imagine. Even if I tried, I could not blink, much less get a wink of sleep.

It was relatively early in the day, so I predicted Ryan would be interviewing me. I squeezed the rag I had in my bag to make sure it was there. I felt the chloroform bottle falling over as I removed my hand from the bag. I found myself wondering what would happen if I got caught, and I wondered if this was worth it. Of course, it was. I would stop the world for Monica. If I go to jail for life, I don’t care.

The restaurant was exactly how I pictured it. I was there the night before, but it was nice to know I wasn’t crazy from my sleep-deprivation.The red letters spelling out the name of the restaurant reminded me why I was doing this. All the memories came back. I sat there staring for at least a few minutes.

“Are you here for the job interview?” A man who I would know later as Ryan asked and pointed at me.

“Yup” I responded, almost too quiet to hear.

“You’re early. I like that in an employee. Follow me, I’ll show you to the interview room.” He walked through the back entrance, past the kitchen, and into another room.

The room was originally big, but now it was cramped with cardboard boxes. The walls were the same shade of beige as the outside walls. He locked the doors, and before he could speak, I poured the chloroform on my cloth. He turned around, and all he saw was the rag on his mouth as he passed out. I took the one of the four cyanide packets I had in my left hand, and I poured it all into his mouth.

I proceeded to do the same with Brandon, who was in the kitchen, and Marge, who was in another room taking deliveries. I knocked out the rest of the staff.

Blair was waiting tables when this was happening. She took five tables’ orders before she realized the food wasn’t being made. When she walked into the kitchen, she paused and rubbed her eyes. The staff’s bodies scattered across the kitchen floor. Blair took out her phone and dialed 911. First my mother, and now them too, she thought.

The police arrived soon after that, and some of the staff members began to wake up. People were getting restless. “What is going on? Why is my food taking so long?”, they thought. Blair noticed a few people who didn’t come out of their sleep. Brandon, Marge, and Ryan. The last time she saw them was last night when…when the tragedy happened. This was all her fault. She dropped her ring into the batter, and when Blair noticed her ring was missing, that poor girl had choked on it. The other person at that table must have done this, and they’re coming for me next.

Blair, in her panic, came straight to me. She ran out the back door and screamed “help they’re going to kill me”. I took the cyanide I had stored away for later, and I shoved it down her throat. The police came to investigate soon after I fled, but they caught me a few days later. I’m in prison for life because of what I did, but I just know Monica would be proud.