Chocolate Cake

Trapped, he stood between me and the doorway. I stood in a pool of my own fear as the masked gunman pointed a 9mm at my head.

“Please,” I begged. “You can take anything you want, just please don’t kill me.” I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. He pulled a chair from the kitchen table and forced me to take a seat. He sat in the adjacent chair, placing himself directly in front of the piece of chocolate cake I had cut for myself right before he came into the room.

“Pull yourself together,” he spoke, “I’m not gonna kill you, yet.” the seriousness in his voice confirmed my death sentence. He placed the gun on the table, barrel still pointed at me.

We sat in silence for what seemed like forever, then he asked, “Do you know who wants you dead?” I shook my head no. “From my understanding, your sister requested the hit. Does that shock you?” Again, I shook my head no. “Strange for a sister to request this service, and I have tried my best to figure out why. However, I think you know,” he said as he picked up the fork. Before taking a huge bite out of the chocolate cake he said, “I want you to tell me why she would pay so much money to have you killed.” I sighed and asked, “How much time do you have?” He looked at the clock and responded, “I got 20 minutes.” “Okay, here it goes.” I took a deep breath and started from the beginning.

“When we were in high school this guy, Brian, was my high school sweetheart. We were close, went anywhere and did everything together. Never missed a beat until one day he didn’t show up for school. I thought it was weird that he would not show up at our usual spot, but he didn’t. I began to feel nauseous, so I called my mom and asked if I can leave school early because I just didn’t feel right. I walked home but the closer I got to the house the worst I felt. My mother explained that my sister stayed home from school, so the front door being unlocked didn’t come to much of a surprise. I walked in and headed towards the downstairs bathroom. Before I could get the door open, I heard moaning, right above my head.

I thought to myself, oh snap, my sister has a boy in mama’s house. I could use this. I could blackmail her.”

“You got more of this cake?” the gunman interrupted as he licked the fork clean. “Um yeah, would you like some more?” I asked, “Yeah, but don’t try anything stupid or I will blow your brains out.” “I guess you can have the rest of the cake, I don’t really have very much use for it anymore.”

As he began demolishing what is left of the chocolate cake, I continued.

“When I got to her bedroom door, I cracked it open and peered inside. However, I wasn’t prepared for what I would find. I could see her fucking some guy. Then, an all too familiar voice moaning along with her, and that is when I saw him. He sat up in the bed staring her in the face as if he were madly in love. It took me a couple minutes to realize what I was looking at. There he was, the love of my life, my high school sweetheart in bed with my sister.”

I looked at the gunman, now gripping his throat, as if the cake was too dry. “Damn girl, do you have anything in here I can wash this cake down with?” I walked over to the cupboard to get a cup, then to the fridge to get some milk, pour it into the cup, and handed it to him. He took a sip looked at me and said, “Continue.”

“I burst into the room lashing out at them both. They scrambled all over the place trying to grab clothes, trying to explain, but before I knew it my fist went across my sister face and she hit the ground hard. I jumped on top of her scratching and punching every bit of her face that I could get my hands on. Before I knew it, he had pulled me from her, and put me in this bear hold. Begging and pleading for me to stop.”

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t explain why she would want you dead,” he interrupted again. “For years I was upset with her about what she did. My sister has been married for over 6 years. I have been sleeping with her husband for the past three.”

The gunman began choking and sweating profusely. I walked over to him, “are you ok?” I asked sarcastically. “You bitch, what did you do to me?” “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that you can’t eat everybody’s cooking?” He collapsed to the ground, groaning in agony mumbling the words, “Wha….. did… you….. do… t.. me….?” “Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?” I asked in somewhat of a cynical tone.

“Where was I? Oh yes, my sister marriage. Now get this. I was finally able to get the bastard to file for a divorce. Took me some time but I finally got him. Oh, believe me it wasn’t easy at first, getting a man to pass up holiday time with his family to spend with me. Hell, I was the one who suggest she hire a private detective.” I turned to see the gunman now lying on the floor staring at the ceiling gasping for air.

I continued, “Today is Brian’s birthday, and I baked that cake for him. He is upstairs, suffered from the same fatal arsenic poisoning that you are now. I spiked everything in that kitchen, including the milk. The best thing about that stuff is that it has no smell, hell you can’t even taste it. I only wished that it were her who confronted us, instead of you.” I look over at the gunman, 9mm in hand, barely holding on as his body deteriorated. “Any……. Last words……. Bitch,” he said struggling to get the words out. “Yeah, how was the cake?”

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