Read Online The Poison Morality by Stacey Kathleen - Free Book Online
Authors: Stacey Kathleen
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threatening rain. After the music stopped, she felt a coat across her shoulders. It was too big for her so she easily slipped her arms into the sleeves, struggling only slightly on the left side. Distracted, she started to protest when she thought he would go out without his coat but he had put on a short leather jacket.
Sitting in silence, the cabbie having his own conversation quite loudly, Sophie stared out at the people on the streets; Oliver stole occasional glances at her.
Outside her building, she turned to speak to him, to try to get him to go away but he just nodded his head and pivoted her back around. “The cab is waiting,” she said.
“He doesn’t mind Sophie.” The front door to the building had a busted lock; indicative of this particular area of Waterloo. It didn’t make any sense that she lived this way and not worry about losing a few hundred last night.
She walked slowly until she saw the envelope leaning against the door, her pace picking up to grab it quickly like she thought he would grab it from her. Oliver thought it was odd, it had no postage and no address, just her name. She thought she was hiding something but he could put two and two together. Quickly, she scooped it up hoping he had not seen it and cradled it against her chest, opening the door.
Thinking to get rid of him as quickly as possible she jerked his coat off and turned to hand it to him but his attention was on something he was holding. “This was on the floor, you must have dropped it.”
“What is it,” she asked, shaking the coat, arm outstretched, indicating he should to take it from her.
“It’s a photo. It was right here on the floor by the door,” he flipped it over.
“I don’t have any photos. Here’s your coat. Thank you very much for escorting me home.”
“It has to be yours,” he held it out to her with one hand, taking the coat in the other.
“Why,” she shrugged.
“Because it is you,” he read the back, “Sophie and Sydney, age four, it says.”
“Sydney? Who’s Sydney?”
He chuckled, thinking she was joking but he saw her face, her focus still on him leaving, his smile fading. “Sophie…she’s your sister.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a sis…hold on, how would you know?”
“See for yourself,” he handed her the photo. Sophie was stunned; it was the same look she had when she realized he was on the train. Snatching it from him, she teetered, looking at two girls almost identical in every way except she didn’t recognize the other child. She sat on the edge of the coffee table, it being the closest thing to her.
“I’ve never seen this photo before in my life, or,” she paused astonished, “this girl,” she recognized herself somehow but her twin, “I-I didn’t know.”
“How could you not know,” he knew she was telling the truth, her eyes wide, breathing heavily, half smiling, half bewildered.
“It’s always been just me, mum, and,” she swallowed hard, her voice lowering, “umm…Declan.”
“Who is Declan,” Oliver asked.
“My stepfather but more importantly, who is Sydney and why don’t I know about her,” she still looked disbelieving even when the proof was in her hand.
“I suspect that’s a question for you mother,” he walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“My mother,” she exclaimed, looking up at him, nostrils flaring, he removed his hand, “I don’t speak to my mum.”
“So where did the photo come from,” it was a rhetorical question because they both knew only two things, one girl in the photo and that it was found on the floor in her flat. There was no answer so she didn’t even attempt to reason one out.
“Sophie, I have to go,” he glanced at his watch. “Will you be all right, until we meet again,” he asked concerned by the fact that she was obviously taken aback by the discovery but a little tilt of
Sitting in silence, the cabbie having his own conversation quite loudly, Sophie stared out at the people on the streets; Oliver stole occasional glances at her.
Outside her building, she turned to speak to him, to try to get him to go away but he just nodded his head and pivoted her back around. “The cab is waiting,” she said.
“He doesn’t mind Sophie.” The front door to the building had a busted lock; indicative of this particular area of Waterloo. It didn’t make any sense that she lived this way and not worry about losing a few hundred last night.
She walked slowly until she saw the envelope leaning against the door, her pace picking up to grab it quickly like she thought he would grab it from her. Oliver thought it was odd, it had no postage and no address, just her name. She thought she was hiding something but he could put two and two together. Quickly, she scooped it up hoping he had not seen it and cradled it against her chest, opening the door.
Thinking to get rid of him as quickly as possible she jerked his coat off and turned to hand it to him but his attention was on something he was holding. “This was on the floor, you must have dropped it.”
“What is it,” she asked, shaking the coat, arm outstretched, indicating he should to take it from her.
“It’s a photo. It was right here on the floor by the door,” he flipped it over.
“I don’t have any photos. Here’s your coat. Thank you very much for escorting me home.”
“It has to be yours,” he held it out to her with one hand, taking the coat in the other.
“Why,” she shrugged.
“Because it is you,” he read the back, “Sophie and Sydney, age four, it says.”
“Sydney? Who’s Sydney?”
He chuckled, thinking she was joking but he saw her face, her focus still on him leaving, his smile fading. “Sophie…she’s your sister.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a sis…hold on, how would you know?”
“See for yourself,” he handed her the photo. Sophie was stunned; it was the same look she had when she realized he was on the train. Snatching it from him, she teetered, looking at two girls almost identical in every way except she didn’t recognize the other child. She sat on the edge of the coffee table, it being the closest thing to her.
“I’ve never seen this photo before in my life, or,” she paused astonished, “this girl,” she recognized herself somehow but her twin, “I-I didn’t know.”
“How could you not know,” he knew she was telling the truth, her eyes wide, breathing heavily, half smiling, half bewildered.
“It’s always been just me, mum, and,” she swallowed hard, her voice lowering, “umm…Declan.”
“Who is Declan,” Oliver asked.
“My stepfather but more importantly, who is Sydney and why don’t I know about her,” she still looked disbelieving even when the proof was in her hand.
“I suspect that’s a question for you mother,” he walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“My mother,” she exclaimed, looking up at him, nostrils flaring, he removed his hand, “I don’t speak to my mum.”
“So where did the photo come from,” it was a rhetorical question because they both knew only two things, one girl in the photo and that it was found on the floor in her flat. There was no answer so she didn’t even attempt to reason one out.
“Sophie, I have to go,” he glanced at his watch. “Will you be all right, until we meet again,” he asked concerned by the fact that she was obviously taken aback by the discovery but a little tilt of
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