Locked My Mother and the Poisonous Rose

I gasped awake, my throat burning.

Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness.

I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago.

She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter.

But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching.

A taste of death.

It wasn't a dream.

It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act.