I Killed My Own Family

Alesha's POV

When Robbie finally came back, he was carrying bags full of nutritional supplements. The moment he stepped through the door, Dad forgot all about the news on TV. He got up quickly and hurried over to help, grabbing the bags from Robbie one by one and setting them down on the floor.

"Work been keepin' you busy?" Dad asked, his voice full of concern. "You look tired. Was the traffic bad? You really don’t need to bring all this when you come home. Your mom and I are fine—just take care of yourself, Alesha, and the baby. That’s all we need."

Mom heard the commotion from the kitchen and came out, still wearin' her apron, wiping her hands on it awkward-like.

"Robbie’s back?" she called, smiling. "Wash up; the food’s almost ready. Alesha’s in the bedroom."

They say a son-in-law’s like half a son, but in this house, Robbie got treated even better than their own flesh and blood. Facin' all their care and concern, Robbie just smiled, nodded, and headed to the bathroom to wash up.

As soon as he was gone, Dad turned to Mom and nudged her back toward the kitchen. "What are you doin' out here? The man’s home, and dinner ain’t even ready yet! Don’t keep ‘em waitin’!"

Mom just sighed but went back to cooking in the end.

What a lovely atmosphere—so hard to part with.

I opened the drawer by my bedside, took my final dose of medication, and slowly got up. When I walked into the living room, Robbie was just coming out of the bathroom, his eyes on me, full of concern.

"Why are you dressed so warm? You feelin’ okay?" he asked, reachin’ for my forehead to check.

I stepped back just before his hand could touch me, feelin' my face flush a little. "My parents are here, Robbie. Don’t act up."

Dad chuckled and then cleared his throat, pretending not to hear anything, but the smile on his face gave him away. Robbie just smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, wrapped jewelry box. He opened it, showing me a necklace that sparkled in the light, the gemstones catchin' the sun just right.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft. "You’ve worked so hard takin’ care of our daughter. I thought you deserved somethin’ special."

I turned around, lettin’ him clasp the necklace around my neck. His hands were gentle and patient—he was indeed a perfect husband.

Once I was done setting the table, I glanced over to see Robbie out on the balcony, taking a phone call. None of us—me, Mom, or Dad—touched our food. We just waited. Robbie didn’t come back for half an hour, and it wasn’t until he sat down again that we started eatin’.

Dad, who was usually calm, looked a little nervous today. Every few minutes, he kept piling food onto Robbie’s plate. "Try this," he’d say. "Your mom makes it best—you won’t find better anywhere."

Mom smiled nervously, with pride in her eyes. "It’s not about bein’ the best. If the kids like it, that’s what matters. And if you do, I’ll make it more often. Just come home more often, Robbie, and bring Alesha and the baby with you."

Their faces were clear to me—too clear—and just like that, I lost my appetite. I stood up and headed to the bedroom.

"Alesha," Mom called after me, "where you goin’? Eat somethin’ before it gets cold!"

"It’s fine," I said over my shoulder. "The baby’s probably hungry, and I need to make her some formula before she starts cryin’."

I was feeding my daughter when I heard it.

One dull thud.

Then two.

Then three.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I stepped into the living room just in time to see Mom and Dad lying on the floor, sprawled out. Robbie, the only one still somewhat conscious, was slumped over, struggling to move. But the drugs had already taken hold, and his mouth couldn’t form a single word.

That’s alright. I wanted him to watch this play out. Let him see how karma works.