True Bravery

Amy stared into Jeremy's eyes, chilled by the cold concision she saw back. Jeremy's eyes seemed void of life, like half of him had already died. Amy considered that perhaps it was her fault. The damp warehouse seemingly suiting the dark nature of the religious cult’s mottos. Amy's daughter Shannon watched in fear as her two parents were watching each other like they did when the Thompson's were a functional family. Jeremy Thompson had been kicked out of the household because of his recent obsession with a cult that his friend was in. It seemed ironic that this very same group would cause the eradication of the Thompsons.

Throughout the whole ordeal Jeremy had not said a word, leaving his wife confused as a few men bundled her and Shannon into a van and then taken her to the warehouse. Amy looked away from Jeremy's empty eyes and return her glare to the two tablets in his hands; the choice only she could make and one that could end lives. Shannon looked on, Amy smiled at her daughter, sitting on the ground almost content, while Amy felt like she was drowning. Jeremy stared at the girl with no feeling, the glance casting fear into Shannon as her smile faded to a neutral face and eyes on the floor.

In Jeremy's left hand was a cyanide tablet, easily identified by its pink dye, kindly coloured by Jeremy's friends in the group. In Jeremy's right hand was an average white pill that could range from aspirin to a sugar pill, Jeremy's friend George had iterated that this pill wasn’t dangerous and Amy didn’t doubt its harmlessness. The part that was eating away at her was George’s final statement.
“we will then force your daughter to take the other pill”
Even the thought of this cruel man caused fear to flow into Amy’s brain, but she knew she could not stand still forever.
In addition to her own fears for self-preservation, Amy understood the slimming chance of survival for her daughter, should her mother perish and she be left alone in a room full of evil men.
Of course, the counter-argument explicitly mentioned that she would, in a way, be putting her daughter to death. Amy realised that if her maternal connection broke and her daughter died, she might just take a cyanide pill anyway.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, sirens were sounding and the crunch of tyres depicted the arrival of the police cruisers. A loud voice boomed inside, vibrating across the warehouse and delivering the message.
“We have you surrounded, let the people go immediately or we will shoot you,”
George became agitated and yelled back the normal responses, we’ll kill the hostages, you wouldn’t dare, you’ll lose your badge, etc. Jeremy continued to stare at Amy.
Acting quickly, she waved Shannon over, with George’s approval Shannon did so. It was then Jeremy's eyes finally flickered. Amy grabbed a pill and allowed Jeremy to watch her swallow it. Then she fought back, she punched Jeremy in the face and immediately moved to the side, the other pill bouncing off the floor as the distraction caught the others off guard. She avoided Jeremy's pitiful jab and proceeded to dodge her way past the other freaks, breaking open the warehouse door and allowing the police in to arrest her husband and his friends. Amy hugged Shannon and caught her breath as she observed the fallout.

Jeremy Thompson was right-handed, this Amy was aware of. For Amy had grabbed the cyanide pill and taken it, leaving Jeremy vulnerable without his better hand. Apathetic towards her own health she looked at Shannon. She had no injuries and didn’t even look that stressed, yes, she had done the right thing, she had protected her daughter as best she could, any mothers duty.  Amy didn’t feel sad, she didn’t feel suicidal or intimidated. In fact she felt she had fulfilled her purpose in life, felt like it now had meaning, even if she had to lose it to keep it, she was ecstatic that her daughter would survive and Shannon would live with at least a smidgeon of normality even if her mother was about to die a traumatic death, Amy was aware Shannon wouldn’t crumble, she would embrace the gifts her mother had worked for and better herself in a way her mother never could. In death, Amy would do more for her daughter than she ever did while living.

Amy gave her last triumphant walk into the sun-filled fields of green and freedom, the luscious emerald a fine image, the sun the constant provider for life, the dark warehouse had now disappeared from her memory and Amy was now at peace with herself. Finally, her metabolism broke down the final pieces of pink dye on the pill, and the poisonous cyanide leeched into her bloodstream.