Lib Novel Page 202
ROSIE
(AGE 19)
I hunch my shoulders as Dad shouts my name, but I keep my hands steady.
I can’t drop this. If I drop this…
My throat tightens.
I won’t drop this.
Keeping my eyes down, I move into the living room and set the meal on the small TV tray next to my dad’s chair. “Here’s dinner.”
“About fucking time. And bring me another beer,” Dad snaps before noticing I already have one on the tray for him. “What’s that?” He points to the bowl.
I’m already stepping away, getting out of reach, before I reply. “French onion soup.”
He grunts.
It’s one of his favorites, but he’ll never say thank you.
Not hitting me is the closest thing to a compliment he’s capable of.
Sticking with my usual routine, I back out of the living room. But instead of retreating to my bedroom, I silently step into the kitchen.
From this far corner, I can see the back of his chair and the back of his head.
It would take effort for him to turn all the way around to see me,so I stay where I am, ready to crouch down behind the U-shaped counter, out of sight.
It’s a risk, staying down here. But even with the bruise around my eye finally faded from our last encounter, tonight is worth the risk.
I need to see.
Need to watch.
Need him to eat his fucking poison.
He shifts, reaching for the bowl.
My heart races.
Eat it.
Just fucking eat it.
The TV volume is loud, but I still hear the clink of his spoon against the ceramic dish.
My research was done at the library, and only when I had spare moments between my jobs, but I double-checked everything.
The pills I’ve saved from my hospital visits.
The extra blood pressure medication I’ve been adding to his morning coffee all week.
The extra time I spent on this particular batch of soup, making sure the flavor was intense enough to cover the taste of my special additions.
It should work.
It has to fucking work.