When the sunlight forces her eyes open, she sees her husband sitting in the chair across the room. He is reading a book, one he must've found in the living room.
Good morning, Alex.
Tabitha is still in her arms. She's more peaceful than Alex has ever seen her, even with the tears tracked down her face from the night before.
It's later than he would've liked to wake up, later than he usually would. Such a disappointment. Can't even do that for him.
... hi.
He struggles to sit up without jostling Tabi around. He manages after a minute, at the cost of keeping her left shoulder tensed. Ow.
mamaaaa your hair!
she sounds like a toddler.
it's gonna get wet!
It was already wet, sweetheart. It's okay.
She taps the wheel. She feels bad for wanting to smoke, now, despite it being the same girl she's smoked in the car with plenty of times. She has a feeling Tabi would cry if she smoked now.
She doesn't even know where she's driving. She could text someone that she'd be late, drive around till Tabitha gets worn out. Take her back to one of her apartments, nice and safe.
Mama can i sit up there with you?
why is she being sweet. what's wrong with her.
Carefully climb up here.
She holds the gear shift and looks back, coming to a stop in the lot.
she crawls into the front seat, giggling. She's already lost her shoes.
Hi mamaa!
Hey, baby. Seatbelt.
She helps the other put it on before starting to pull out of the lot, onto the street.
She kicks her feet, wiggling in her seat like nobody's business.
Alex's phone rings.
It's Jonathan.
How the hell'd he find a burner this fast, sweet Jesus.
She grumbles, accepting the call, tucking it on her shoulder.
Hello, Alex.
He sounds pissed. Or that he's planning. Or both. Or none. He's weird like that.
How's your little girl?
Great. You need something?
Now she really wishes she could smoke. Or drive off the harbour. She needs to tucker Tabi out. How the hell do you do that?
Just checking in. How is she? Lethargic?
He seems too interested.
No. No, quite the opposite. Very. Childish, to put it simply.
Ah, I see. Well, progress isn't quite linear, hm?
He murmurs under his breath.
Do keep me updated on her condition, darling.
.... sure.
She glances at Tabi, who looks curious.
Just... mood changes?
Mood, Health, any of the sort.
Tabitha points at the phone excitedly, trying her hardest to keep quiet for mama.
Just, um, throwing the question out there, what did you do?
She asks, stopping at a light. God, traffic was awful right now.
Well I found the box beneath the coffee table, and assumed it should be put to better use. Don't you agree?
Oh my God.
A wave of cold dread crashes into her.
Which one? Which did you use?
10 milligrams of formula E-2. In her water, so it's a slow release.
He doesn't sound... right. He's not her Jonathan. He's less careful. Sporadic.
You are so lucky I'm against committing violent traffic crimes with a child in the car.
A recreational formula, watered down and low dosage. She'd be fine, with mild auditory and minor visual hallucinations. It explained her earlier questioning. God, she was going to kill that man. Rip him to shreds.
Hm. Ironic.
He hums, not seeming to care much for the threat.
I'm going to get you, one of these days, Jon.
She grumbles lowly, putting the call on speaker and tossing it on the dash. She hardly has the tone of a woman considering mariticide, but the set of her brows said otherwise.
You're a fucking idiot. You could have killed her, with anything more.
Let me remind you, Alexander, that it is not you with the doctorate in chemistry. I came up with those toxins, I know how to handle them.
Jon's not angry. Only mildly annoyed. He sounds scary. Tabitha quiets down.
