RATED R MATERIAL
I hold no legal ramifications or liability, nor does anyone at Black Cat Editing or The Real Saga Press. The series you will be reading does not depict any real events past or present, nor real people.
It is a work of fiction.
The Bone Jar
The nausea over came Ivy again, her stomach rolled and recoiled. Ivy started gagged violently as Troy was washing up at the utility sink. He looked over at Ivy and watched with mild curiosity. He brought Ivy a cup and a cloth. The cup had a warm liquid in it, it smelled so good. Ivy sipped gingerly at it, her eyes peering over the lip of the cup at her beloved Troy. He smiled softly, offering the cloth to Ivy.
It too was warm, and Ivy relished in it as she started wiping her face and neck with it. Troy was such a darling, always thinking of her. Troy seemed oddly quiet though. Keenly watching her every move. Ivy watched him pick up the scalpel and cock his head to one side. A quick flick of his wrist and the doe’s smile was widened into an awful gaping grin. The sound of the staple gun made Ivy nearly jump out of her skin. With thread and needle, Troy made the final adjustments and the doe’s gruesome smile was now complete.
Ivy leaned heavily against the table, grimacing as a cramp rolled through her guts. She started to pant and gag when another cramp followed quickly behind the other. Why was it so hard to catch her breath, why is getting so cold? Ivy thought as she glanced over the edge of the table. She had knocked the cup over off the smaller table and the liquid was running between her big toe and the one next to it. She could swear her toe was starting to itch.
Ivy looked up at Troy and croaked a whimper at him. He was standing over her staring down at her. His face twisted in a rueful smile while he twisted the scalpel between his thumb and finger. The light of the halogen gleaming off the sharp edge of the scalpel blinding Ivy.
“My sweet little Ivy flower,” Troy whispered as he bent to catch her eyes with his, “you broke my heart you know that. You didn’t appreciate my work. You tried to ruin it by writing that letter. Why, Ivy. We were so good together and you were my sweet twisted little Ivy.”
Ivy moaned deep in her throat and stared back down at the cup. No, it wasn’t a letter from an ex girlfriend. It was her letter to the police. He must have been following her around. She hadn’t gotten away with it after all. Ivy looked back up at Troy, searching his face for some left-over hint of love or passion, something she could lean in on, maybe use to survive with. There was nothing, Ivy sighed heavily and hung her head as she resigned herself to what was to come.
“Troy, what was in the cup?” Ivy asked as another cramp in her gut caused her to lean into the table and groan, “What did you give me?”
“Oh, my sweet twisted Ivy.” Troy hissed, “You were poisoned to me, so I poisoned you with, of all things, your very name… Poison Ivy.”
Ivy started gasping for breath, her heart thudding in her chest. Rattling her rib cage and racing it’s final laps. Ivy moaned as her gut rolled and she threw open her mouth. Frothy vomit streaked with bile and blood flowed from her mouth and onto the floor. Her head spun, and her heart thudded against her chest again. Ivy stumbled forward, and Troy caught her tenderly. He pulled her close to him and put her head on his chest.
“It’s alright my little Ivy flower,” Troy purred as he kissed her forehead, “time to rest my love.”
Ivy rolled her head to one side and her eyes caught in the mirror again. Her green eyes staring into themselves, roaming over a face she no longer could begin to recognise or understand. Ivy’s chest heaved as she shuddered the last breath of life out into Troy’s shoulder and she closed her eyes to finally rest.