https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2023/07/wep-august-challenge-chocolat-post.html
Flash Fiction
Chocolate and Death
By Jamie Dorner
*TRIGGER WARNINGS= Murder-suicide, alcohol, language, pedophilia, abortion laws, cancer, house fire.
Tagline: A tragic, controversial, trigger-heavy realistic fiction.
MPA 950 words
I start the fire on a pile of split wood dipped in kerosene outside. A slow burn will give me time. I march into the house. His bowling trophies adorn the mudroom. I knock each one over, watching the precious awards break, stomping on them to be sure none survive. I tip the vodka bottle over the shattered remains.
"Cheers to your victories, asshole."
I remember the first time he celebrated a win after I moved in. I was ten.
"Just like the number of pins and frames!"
I cried harder that night than the months before, when I was mourning my parents. I tried to tell, tried to get help. Everyone cut me off, saying how grateful I must be that my Uncle Cyprus took me in.
I pour more vodka around the kitchen as I search. There's always a box hidden somewhere.
The den has a pile of unopened mail. Bills from the hospital. Bright red envelopes from collection agencies. Three stacks of envelopes from places that will never get paid. Cyprus has no life insurance. I take a swig of the vodka. No reason not to drink. I rub my abdomen. Nope, no reason at all.
Once the desk drawers are flung about, and the vodka is poured out, I leave the room. I grab another bottle from the liquor cart in the living room. There must be a box somewhere, but I haven't found it yet. I knock all the pictures off the mantle. Cyprus with my dad. Cyprus with his bowling team. Cyprus with his car. No pictures of me. My parents' mantle had many pictures of me, of us together, and of their wedding. Love and hope, reasons to live. I soak his pictures with alcohol. I wish I could erase him from the world, to destroy all proof he existed.
I yank his autographed baseball bat off the wall and head to the bathroom. I take a quick chug from the bottle before I start smashing. Seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror? I've already had those! I glare at the motion-activated cameras he has hidden and flip them off. Let his perverted subscribers see. My final showing will be one of death and destruction.
The smoke alarm blares as I head down the hall. My slow-burning fire has finally gotten inside. Good. But I still want to find a box.
I go into his room. This is where I made my choice. I kick his bloody body. "I know you've got a box of them somewhere. I'm going to find them. The very last box ever."
His corpse remains silent. I throw dresser drawers on him as I search. Finally, in his nightstand, I find the treasure. His Bible, as if he has any idea what that book is about, a clip of extra bullets, and the last box of chocolates. I take the box and kick the bullet hole I put in his head.
"Told you I'd find them." I take another swig of vodka and then pour the remainder of the bottle on him and his drawers of clothing.
I head to my room. On my desk are printouts from the doctors. Most are about my cancer and the treatment plan. Then there's one which states that I'm pregnant and thus ineligible for cancer treatment. Next is an official state document warning that I will face murder charges if the pregnancy isn't successful. Except, without the treatments, I won't survive into the second trimester. The paper on the top has a fuzzy ultrasound image attached. The fetus is deformed and underdeveloped because of my cancer.
Humming to myself, I fill my stolen needle and then inject each chocolate. I look at the teddy bear with the webcam eye.
"I wanted to live. Just four more months and I would have been eighteen. I could have left legally. The cops brought me back three times before. But as an adult, I would have been free! Getting me knocked up might have held me back for a little longer. It's illegal to cross state lines without permission while pregnant. But my cancer-ridden body is murdering the fetus. It's illegal to grant needed medical care here in my condition. So, since I'd be dying while imprisoned for murder, I saw no reason not to kill Cyprus."
I pop a chocolate into my mouth. It oozes on my tongue. The poison stings, but the chocolate still tastes sweet. Puffs of smoke sneak under my bedroom door.
"This is gonna be a snuff film. I hope you all get caught watching it. I hope the authorities find each and every one of you and lock you up on charges of child pornography." I eat another chocolate. "I sent copies of his computer stuff to the FBI and six news agencies. Hopefully, someone bothers to check."
It's harder to enjoy the next chocolate. The poison is fast-acting. My damaged bedroom door has tiny flames in the cracks.
"Please know that I do not regret my choices. If I could have prevented him from molesting me, I would have. If I could have avoided him impregnating me, I would have. I'd gladly do any cancer treatment offered. I would have fought to live. And I'd have left without killing him. Yes, I thought about it. That murder was absolutely premeditated. I am grateful to be guilty of it. I might have left him alive. This is better."
The last chocolate passes over my lips. It sticks to the roof of my mouth as my eyes close. The world fades away as the treat he always denied me mixes with my final breath.
This story takes place in America.
It may or may not be currently legal for a pregnant minor to cross state lines. There was some debate as to if human beings are the property of a state, or if that would be similar to the terms of slavery. Also, it's difficult to enforce as there's not much separating most states.
Miscarriages may or may not be illegal, and may or may not come with a murder charge. The removal of a fetus which has a failure to thrive and has no signs of survival is also called abortion, but not removing it causes toxins that kill the host.
In some states, a pregnancy test must be done before anyone with a vagina can receive any healthcare treatment (like an Xray) that could risk a potential fetus, even when not getting that treatment immediately can mean the patient dies.
Many treatments can be denied in certain states even if there is absolutely no possible way the fetus can survive long enough in a dying host to be a viable birth -- which is the case in this story. She has been denied cancer treatment because of the pregnancy, but the fetus would never have been born anyway, it could never develop lungs or other needed organs, and the cancer will win. If she were permitted to have treatment, she might go on to have many children, maybe become the scientist who cures cancer, who knows. The fetus is no longer viable at the start of this story. The main character is dead at the end of this story.
