Poison Ivy
It really was all Harrison Brensons fault if you thought about it. He had asked her for it. And he had agreed knowing that there would be some sort of consequences. He just didn’t think that his consequence would be quite so severe I suppose.
We were never really good friends, Harrison and I, but had I known what was going to happen, before it had happened, I would have warned him. It’s not that she’s a bad person, or that he was in the wrong, it was that once it happened, there was no stopping what would come next. It was inevitable and undeniable.
He’d met her in a club, drunk as sin and sloppy to boot. He never thought about consequences, ever, thinking back on it. Anyway, she was there. Looking, well like herself. Like the poison that she is. She draws them to her, and has her way, but then nature takes over, and she can’t stop herself. It’s something she has to do. He took her home, back to his apartment, and that was the last I’d seen of him, until today. I really wish that I hadn’t though.
I didn’t recognize her at first, but as they left, I’d realized why I had that feeling. The feeling you get when you can’t place a face, but it’s too familiar to forget.
You can’t blame her though, none of this was her fault. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing the wrong things, and using the wrong judgment. Nevertheless, he didn’t do anything wrong.
He never even saw it coming, which I suppose is what’s the worst part of it all. He never knew that after going all the way, it was her instinct to get rid of him. Just like a Black Widow spider, when she was finished with him, she was finished.
Harrison never stood a chance. I feel a bit bad, now, thinking that if I had just recognized her a few minutes sooner, I could have saved him. His death would have been avoided, and she wouldn’t have escaped without ever leaving a trace. She’s careful like that, and her skill improves with every kill. I guess that’s why they call her Poison Ivy.