Gabriel’s breath hitches and he stands straight as I roughly push myself away from him, taking a step back, wiping my cyanide-coated fingertips against the fabric of the apron. “Thanks for providing me a room with so many beauty supplies,” I say, quite casual, as his breath starts to come short. “The petroleum jelly is very useful for chapped lips and…” I wave my fingertips at him. “Keeping poisons from entering through the skin.”
“You bitch,” he rasps, stumbling back, oxygen already starting to fail him. “Have – have you killed me?”
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