Without responding, I turned on my heel and left the room.
Once outside, I paused briefly to gather my thoughts before heading downstairs to pour myself a glass of water. With the glass in hand, I stared blankly at the clear liquid, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Eventually, I reached into the hidden compartment of the liquor cabinet and retrieved a special vial I'd been keeping. I added a drop of its contents to the water. It dissolved completely, leaving no trace.
Watching the water, I smirked to myself, a sense of poetic justice washing over me.
It was time he got a taste of his own medicine.
I put away the vial and carried the water back upstairs, my heart devoid of any guilt or hesitation.
Upon returning to the room, I found Jaylan on the brink of sleep.
"Water," I said, nudging him slightly.
He grumbled a bit before sluggishly sitting up and taking the glass. He drank it down in a few big gulps, managing to mumble a sleepy thanks before falling back onto the bed, fast asleep. He must have really been tired.
I climbed into bed, pretending to prepare for sleep. His snoring filled the room.
I rolled over to face him, staring at his face in the dim light. It had been a while since I'd taken a close look at him. For some reason, tonight, I found myself studying his features.
His stubble was more visible in the soft glow of the night, his hair tousled from the day. He was thinner than I remembered.
I scoffed in my heart. He was the epitome of heartlessness. The tragic deaths of Marissa and Evan seemed to have had little effect on him.
He even wanted to kill me, what else could he not let go of? Not to mention he knew Marissa was unfaithful, and Evan wasn't his child, so what did it matter if he was dead or alive?
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