I had finally grown into adulthood. Simon was now 20. I knew my real family, along with the police, would soon find this place. My sister would soon take my place.
It was time.
On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, I went to Willie and his wife and asked them to arrange a wedding for me and Simon.
It was time for their family to atone for their sins.
The village came alive with celebration. A large shed was set up at the entrance, and every household pitched in to help. I wore a red wedding dress, while Simon, dressed in a suit, beamed with joy. He held my hand, eyes shining with pure admiration.
“Amber, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, then hesitated as he noticed my distant expression. “Are you unhappy?”
I forced a smile, gently dabbing the saliva from his chin with a handkerchief. “No, I’m very happy.”
He had treated me well. But his family deserved nothing but ruin.
The village wedding banquet was held in the traditional style—each household sitting together at long tables, making my plan effortless.
As I toasted each guest alongside Simon, I discreetly let the poison, hidden beneath my fingernails, dissolve into the wine glasses of Willie, Erick, and Daryl. It was a common agricultural toxin, one I had learned about in chemistry class. Easily obtained, undetectable, and slow-acting.
At first, they would experience nausea and diarrhea. Within two days, their organs would shut down, and they would die in agony.
They drank with laughter, toasting my supposed good fortune.
Then, the first cramps hit.
One by one, they clutched their stomachs, their smiles twisting into grimaces of pain. The banquet erupted into chaos. The villagers, thinking it was food poisoning, scrambled to call an ambulance.
But the mountain road was too remote, and the county ambulance would take at least two or three hours to arrive.
The poisoned guests were helped back to their rooms, but soon, the sound of their pained complaints echoed from the backyard.
By the fifth time Willie stumbled toward the backyard, clutching his stomach, realization finally dawned on him. His bloodshot eyes snapped toward me, filled with suspicion and rage.
"Why is it only us? Why aren’t the others sick?" His voice was hoarse, laced with growing fear.
For a long moment, he just stared at me—cold, calculating—before barking an order at Simon.
"Watch her! Don't let her run!"
Simon, confused but obedient, nodded dumbly.