Chapter 2 - A Recipe Written In Poison
Marcus reached out a trembling hand toward me.
His skin was unnaturally pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat.
“Give Victoria the box, Nora,” he repeated in a flat, monotone voice.
“She’s only trying to protect us.”
I took a step backward, pressing my spine against the attic beam.
“Marcus, look at yourself!” I pleaded, my voice cracking.
“She is drugging you!”
“Clara wrote it all down before she died!”
Victoria let out a cold, amused chuckle.
She stepped closer, shielding Marcus behind her tall frame.
“Clara was sick, Nora,” Victoria said softly, her eyes glinting in the dark.
“She was delusional, just like her son.”
“And now you’re suffering from the exact same family illness.”
I held Clara’s journal tighter against my ribs.
“I know about the laundry room, Victoria!” I shouted.
“I know you’re locking Toby away!”
Marcus winced slightly at his son’s name.
A brief flash of clarity crossed his dull eyes.
“Toby?” Marcus mumbled, touching his forehead.
“Toby is in his room… isn't he?”
Victoria instantly turned and grabbed Marcus by his lapels.
She pressed a glass tumbler into his hands.
It contained a dark brown tea smelling faintly of bitter almonds.
“Drink your tea, darling,” she whispered gently, stroking his cheek.
“Your sister is making you upset.”
“Drink it so you can rest.”
Marcus raised the glass to his lips with robotic obedience.
“No! Marcus, don't!” I screamed.
I lunged forward and struck the glass out of his hands.
The tumbler shattered across the wooden attic floor.
The dark liquid soaked into the dry floorboards.
Victoria’s face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated rage.
She raised the heavy metal flashlight and struck me across the collarbone.
Pain flared through my shoulder, sending me falling backward over a box.
The journal slipped from my hands and slid across the floor.
Victoria calmly stepped on the leather book.
She snatched it up and tossed it into the open flames of a small space heater in the corner.
The dry paper caught fire instantly.
In seconds, Clara’s handwriting turned to black ash.
“No!” I gasped, cradling my bruised shoulder.
Victoria smiled down at me.
“Evidence is so fragile, isn't it?” she whispered.
She pulled a small key from her apron pocket and closed the attic door.
The heavy lock clicked shut from the outside.
We were trapped.
Marcus sank to the dusty floor, clutching his head in confusion.
“Nora… why is it so dark?” he whimpered.
“Why does my head hurt so bad?”
I crawled over to him in the dark and held his shaking hands.
“She’s poisoning you, Marcus,” I whispered, tears spilling down my face.
“She’s been giving you something to destroy your mind.”
“She wants your money, your house, and control over Toby.”
Marcus began to cry softly, the fog in his brain slowly clearing without the tea.
“I… I thought Clara left us,” he sobbed.
“Victoria told me Clara ran away with another man.”
“She gave me medicine every day to help me forget the pain.”
My heart broke for my foolish, broken brother.
“Clara didn't leave you,” I said fiercely.
“She loved you.”
“And Toby needs us right now.”
We spent the next three hours in total darkness.
I used a sharp metal heavy-duty staple pulled from a cardboard box.
I scraped frantically at the old brass latch of the attic window.
My fingers bled, but I didn't stop.
At three in the morning, the rusted window latch finally gave way.
The window opened onto the steep slate roof.
Below us, the rain had turned into a pouring storm.
“We have to climb down to the fire escape,” I told Marcus.
Marcus looked terrified, but he nodded.
We scrambled out onto the slick roof tiles, clinging to the wooden rain gutters.
The wind dragged at our clothes as we crept toward the edge.
We made it to the iron fire escape ladder and climbed down to the second floor.
I smashed the window of Toby’s bedroom with my elbow.
We tumbled into the dark bedroom.
The room was empty.
Toby’s bed was unmade, his sheets ripped away.
On the small wooden desk lay a single white index card.
It was written in Victoria’s sharp, cursive handwriting.
“He is moving to the private care facility tonight.”
“Don't bother looking for him.”
My heart stopped.
She was taking him away forever.
Marcus dropped to his knees, clutching Toby’s small pillow.
“I did this,” Marcus whispered, his voice full of unbearable agony.
“I let her take my boy.”
“Get up, Marcus!” I yelled, grabbing his coat collar.
“Remember what Clara wrote in the journal!”
“Look in Toby’s closet under the third floorboard.”
Marcus scrambled across the floor to the small closet.
He pulled back the cluttered toys and lifted the loose oak board.
Beneath it lay a small brown glass medicine bottle and a thick white folder.
The label on the bottle read: Scopolamine Concentrate.
It was a tasteless, dangerous drug that caused severe confusion and memory loss.
Beside the bottle was Clara’s official toxicology report from a private lab.
It was dated the exact day she died.
Clara hadn't died in an accident because of bad driving.
She had been heavily drugged before she ever got into her car.
Victoria had murdered my sister-in-law.
And she was doing the exact same thing to Marcus.
Suddenly, the front door downstairs slammed shut.
Engine tires squealed in the driveway outside.
I ran to the window.
Victoria’s black SUV was idling in the pouring rain.
Through the rear tinted window, I saw Toby’s small face pressed against the glass.
He was crying, his hands beating helpless against the door.
Victoria got into the driver’s seat.
“Marcus, hurry!” I screamed.
We sprinted down the stairs toward the front door.
As we reached the foyer, the front door burst open.
Dr. Harrison, the family physician Victoria had hired, stood in the doorway holding a heavy leather medical bag.
He looked at Marcus with cold, clinical eyes.
“Your wife asked me to ensure you don't leave this house tonight, Mr. Vance,” the doctor said softly.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a pre-filled syringe.
Marcus stepped in front of me, his eyes burning with a sudden, furious rage.
“Get out of my way,” Marcus growled.
The doctor stepped forward with the needle raised.
Marcus lunged forward and tackled the doctor into the marble wall.
The syringe flew across the floor and shattered against the baseboard.
“Go get Toby, Nora!” Marcus yelled, pinning the doctor to the ground.
“I’ll hold him!”
I ran out into the roaring storm toward the idling SUV.
Victoria put the car into gear.
The heavy tires spun on the wet gravel, spraying mud everywhere.
I threw myself onto the hood of the moving car.
I grabbed the windshield wipers with all my strength.
May you like
Through the glass, Victoria stared at me with pure hatred.
She slammed her foot on the accelerator.
