Emma hadn’t baked in years. It was a hobby she’d loved doing with her mom; cookies, pies, brownies, and cakes. Her mom had always been encouraging.

“One day, honey, you could be a professional baker. When the perfect ingredients come together, and you take that first bite, there isn’t a care or worry in the world. A delicious dessert brings the ultimate peace.”

That was before the fire on that Thanksgiving night several years ago. Emma’s parents had been fighting again, and when she tried to intervene, her mother had sent her to her room. From there she’d listened to them scream and cry, and finally, after what seemed like hours, they quieted down. By that point, Emma had drifted off to sleep, waking only when her smoke alarm sounded and she escaped out the window after her door proved to be scalding to the touch. Her parents weren’t so lucky.

A few items had survived the flames, including a tiny blue vial of liquid that her mother had called her “special occasion vanilla.” Emma smiled as she poured a few drops into the batter of her cheesecake. She’d never had a chance to try it before, since she’d only ever seen her mom use it that fateful night, when Emma was sent to bed too early for dessert. Now was her chance to finally finish the meal that never was.

“Love you mom,” Emma said, taking her first bite.

Her fork clattered to the table as the poison began to tear her apart from the inside. She gasped for air as her mom’s words rang in her mind.

“The ultimate peace.”