|Drea rocks. Back and forth, back and forth. The young man in her arms whimpers, and follows the movement. He leans into her body, afraid of her, but more afraid to pull away.
One step at a time Drea had removed the man’s humanity, his sanity.
First came the poisonings, from his glass to his stomach to his heart. A touch of rosemary here, a spec of ethanol there, and just a pinch of arsenic to top the method off.
Then came the words. The whispers in his ears. The hatred, the malice, the doubt. The tongue as toxic as the drink messed with his mind, and Drea fed off his confusion and his pain.
The final act of evil was to eat away his soul.
Drea appeared to the man as innocent, sweetheart girl. She watches from afar, taunts him. Teases him. Comes closer, makes him fear. The sun fades, the shadows grow. The little girl’s teeth rot, the blue eyes morph darker, ever darker, into black. She comes to him, her hands around his throat, his own hands close around a knife – so handy, such chance that it was there – and in his terror plunged it into the heart of this monster going for the kill.
At his feet lay the body of the dear little girl, covered in blood. Murdered by his hand.
They come, they take him away. The silver necklace with the silver cross falls to the bloodied dirt. A painful reminder of the good man he used to be.
The body is gone. Some wondered where it went.
Even without that evidence, the trial goes ahead. He is found not guilty. He is found insane.
The man rocks. Back and forth, back and forth. Drea’s plan, so successful. She did not even have to be in the same room with the man now, which was good. It’s hard to get in and out of the asylum.