Dedicated to C.A. Nicola
Words: Subtle, Textures, Reluctant, Reign, Lavender,
Lavender has such a calming effect. It really does. I place it on the windowsill of my apartment and leave it there. I sit on the chair in my kitchen and ponder over the plant, thinking of the many uses of this amazing plant.
My newfound knowledge of botany comes from the new books on my kitchen table from the local library, the best therapy in my opinion, reading. Fuck that new wave coloring bull shit! What a subtle way to bring on early dementia, heh, might as well take the heroin instead of the prescribed drugs that psychiatrists prescribe when you’re deemed too fucking nuts to function in society. Legalized drug addicts. Fuck. Anyway, back to my lovely lavender plant.
I break off some of the plant and boil it in water. Lavender tea does well for the nerves or so my Google research tells me. I’m reluctant to actually believe this, but I like to try new things and I’m always willing to try something at least once. I take out a mug and get it ready. As I pour the tea in, the fumes from the lavender are indeed relaxing. I breathe it in, and smile. Well, this was a pleasant surprise. Taking out another mug, I pour the tea into that as well and with both mugs in hand, I walk into the living room. My newest victim is tied tightly in the recliner. I place the mugs on the coffee table as she looks at me, fear clear in her eyes as it makes me shiver in excitement.
Standing over her, I’m reluctant to take the duct tape off her mouth. Looking into her eyes, I wait silently until she looks at me and stills herself.
“I’m going to give you Lavender tea. If you scream, I’ll throw it in your face and it will burn you,” I say flat and emotionless.
She stares at me and nods. I rip off the duct tape from her mouth and it pleases me that she holds back her scream of pain. I hold the cup to her mouth and she sips slowly. Once she is done I place the mug on the coffee table. I drink from my own mug. It has turned lukewarm now so the taste isn’t as good and the texture is a bit off. No matter. It still satisfies me.
“You’re being good, so I’ll reward you and not re-tape your mouth tonight,” I say and leave the living room.
I go into my bedroom and get ready for bed. I’m tired after a long week of murdering and pillaging. Yawning after thinking about all my successes, I shower and towel myself dry. The next morning, I wake up with my hands duct-taped to the posts of my bed. My prisoner is above me straddling me and poised with a knife over me.
“You didn’t think you were the only one with a reign of terror that went un-checked did you?” She said with a smile and the last thing I saw was the knife as she plunged it through my chest.