Her father drank a six pack of German beer for breakfast ever since she could remember. As a child, she had watched him take his *Medicine* with beer every morning, noon and night along with a few extra doses when needed. When she was thirteen years old she watched her father on a TV show ease a couple of Percocet out of his pocket and chase it down with water. By then she knew he had a problem. However, the problem was rather twisted for her. The same bottle that caused all the arguments between her father and step-mother was also the very item that gave her special time with her dad when he went to the store. So instead of it being a problem on those days, it was a bottle of love.
As time went on it became a ritual between *her * and her father. They would meet at the car around 6:30 am. *Her* in pajamas and *him* in his camouflage sweats. They would climb in the truck and go to the corner store. The clerk already knew the price. his order rarely varied. A six pack of Lowenbrau beer, a pack of peanuts and a Vernor’s Ginger Ale for *her*.
Eventually, the bottle of love became a favorite drink for *her* as well. In college, she went to a frat party and someone added a little potion to her bottle of love. She woke up to find that she had been used by a group of frat boys as a bottle of love.
The bottle of love started to change after that. Instead of something that brought her happy memories, it was now blurred with splotches of a lapse in memory and bad decisions. Never the less, *her* graduation from Law school went without any major events. In the back of her mind, she kept thinking of how the bottle of love had left her feeling empty inside. She vowed to never drink from the forbidden liquid again. She even implemented the twelve-step program in her life just like *her* father did before his untimely death.
After Law school, she landed the dream job she always wanted. Soon after landing it she ended up with the dream husband too. The small people or children as some would call it was put on hold in the beginning. It wasn’t too long before the bottle of love appeared more and more at the dinner table. “It’s just a bottle of red wine” *her* husband would say whenever he pulled the cork on the bottle. After several appearances on the dinner table the hold was finally lifted on the small people and soon enough there were two small additions to the family within three years.
The bottle of love was also now a strong addition to the family.
The bottle of love brought several things besides the drink itself to the table. It was often that it also contained foul words from her husband, inside of each glass.
The more he partook of the bottle of love the less he partook of her. By the time her eldest child was seven her bottle of love hadn’t been touched or drank from by her husband for over three years.
The morning of the murder *her* mind kept her awake the entire night before thinking of the vile names he had been calling her. Then she read an email that was addressed to another bottle of love that clearly, he had been drinking from over the past three years.
So, she poured her own potion in his bottle of love, watched him drink it then called a *cleaner* that *her* father had once used to dispose of his cheating wife. Opened a bottle of red wine, took a sip, walked away forever from her BOTTLE OF LOVE……
For some reason *he* was write for the kill…