Content warning: the below includes casual discussion of past murder, suicide, murder-suicide, mass murder, and child abuse.
For all that, it’s a relatively light-hearted piece.
“What the hell?”
First the woman had kidnapped him – he sort of remembered “does this smell like chloroform to you?” and then he was here, tied up in a very quaint kitchen. Then she’d poured something down his throat, something that smelled awful and tasted worse, and held his nose and pressed his lips closed until he swallowed the shit.
The worst of it was, he didn’t recognize her at all, and yet she seemed maddeningly familiar. “Have you been stalking me?” That might explain it, if he’d seen her here and there. “And if so, why? It’s not like my family has money for ransom. It’s not like I-”
The memories started to hit. He swallowed twice, blinked, and realized why the kitchen seemed so familiar. They’d raised their first child here – what?
“What?” Continue reading