Part 2 

Khawla tried her best not to laugh as she walked out of the good doctor’s building. Her laugh often made people uncomfortable since it added in sounds that were not meant for human ears. Even cats hated the sound of her laughter, and that was saying something with the amount of creatures cats interacted with and kept. 

But her plan was working out well, the good doctor would obviously report back to her mother and then the facade would intensify. What Khawla needed was the doubt of her sanity and mental capacity to be in the public eye. And it would work too, after all, Dr. Pine was a pioneer in his field and highly regarded for both his treatment method and his ability to diagnose a person. 

With her no longer in the public eye, she could slink back to the laboratories that held her true passion— poisons. 

Khawla didn’t always like poisons, in fact, plagues were better at accumulating souls. But times have changed, and so her methods had to adjust to the way the world continues to evolve. Poison allowed her to work more skillfully and selective when it comes to souls. Now, it wasn’t the mass gathering of experiences that lingered on her tongue when she ate a large amount of souls, instead it was the fine-tuning of the perfect soul sinking into the pores of her skin. 

There was a method to choosing a good soul to consume. It had to be just corrupt enough for them to feel like they were doing good in the world, but the truth was quite the opposite. Humans were fickle that way, they always thought their ideas and beliefs were right. Khawla had always thought it was cute how humans felt entitled to their way of life. 

It was one of the reasons she kept coming back to this world every few years. Humans fascinated her with the way they bleed or tried to hold onto the breath in their lungs as they choked. Not only were the color of their skin so different from each other, but that was not the peak of their existence. More often than not, most humans shifted the most beautifully in death. Their bodies decomposing unraveled the mystery of what it meant to be dead. 

The breaking down of flesh, the slow release of gases that built up overtime, and the depletion of soft tissues as the bones harden. Khawla loved the simple brittleness of the bones when they lose all their strength, and how they felt in her fingers as she snapped them. 

A ringing pierced through her reveling, slamming her back into the reality of existing in this family. 

“Mother, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Khawla’s voice, sickeningly sweet, leaving little room for confusion. 

“Khawla, your doctor called me today.” Ms. Heydari spoke as if this was expected. As a mother, Ms. Heydari had done everything in her power to grow perfect children. Khawla was the child she did not account for, a child that kept to herself but had enough social skills to handle a crowd in a room. The fact that Khawla had always been outside of Ms. Heydari’s perfect mold was irksome, but her husband had always stood up for Khawla. Mr. Heydari was dead now, so things had to change. 

“And? Did you find out something interesting?” Khawla replied, almost wanting to laugh. 

Ms. Heydari took a deep breath before speaking, “Khawla, do not pretend to be ignorant with me.” 

“I know not what you mean, mother. I thought my therapy sessions were confidential.” Khawla spoke as if she could see the scowl on her mother’s face and tried not to laugh. Her amusement would not go over well if her mother, whom she had been told not to call mother after her father’s funeral. Khawla had seen it coming, after all, she was never the perfect child. She was always a bit off kilter, more interested in being along with her poisons and books than with people.

“I only do this because I care about you and your well-being,” Ms. Heydari sounded on the edge of cursing. But she had not worked so hard to control her temper and take over the majority of companies under the Heydari name to just let a child ruin her reputation. 

“Of course, mother, you always looked out for your children.” Khawla’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Even after being told she could no longer call her only remaining parent affectionately, she still liked to push buttons. After all, it made the soul taste better when she liked at the tendrils that slid off Ms. Heydari when she was in close vicinity to Khawla. 

“If you are having problems,” Ms. Heydari placed on emphasis on the word problems, but Khawla knew what she was trying to say. “You can take some time off, grief can be difficult to understand and deal with. Just keep meeting with your doctor and we will take care of the rest.” 

Khawla wanted to laugh, but now was not the time to let her mother get the upper hand. “I am just as fine as you, mother. After all, grief is hard to understand. But since you are concerned, I will continue to see the good doctor.”

Ms. Heydari took a deep breath in before she spoke again. “I want the best for you, Khawla. The best for this family.” But there were other things that Khawla’s mother wanted but dared not to say out loud. While it was not the time to show these feelings, Ms. Heydari sighed and bit back on the words that wanted to force their way out. 

“Mother, I care about this family as well, but I understand you want to continue the family name and business.” Khawla looked down at the computer in her lap and sighed, now was not the time to agitate her mother. 

“Khawla, maybe we can revisit this later, just take a few days off and think about what I said.” There was a sort of finality in Ms. Heydari’s voice that Khawla did not notice as the call ended. 

If she had noticed, she would have increased the security in the lab, maybe even checked her car for bombs. But Khawla was too busy being amused by the meager threats of a human and her good little doctor sidekick. It did not matter if she was kicked out of the company, there was very little Khawla wanted to do there anyway. What mattered was the poisons she spent this lifetime developing, they would change the world. 

It was probably not a good change, but total annihilation was an interesting concept that Khawla wanted to try. Plus, the surge of souls would make for a splendid send-off. Though, Khawla did question where she would go if her main food source had been destroyed. But that was a problem for after the destruction, now it was time to focus on a beautiful airborne poison that would spread to the far corners of the earth.

Khawla smiled to herself, not the subtle smile she had perfected with slight upturned lips, but the devilish grin that changed her eyes to purple and showed her mouth that had far too many teeth. It was a smile she only used when she was alone, for fear of startling the poor humans. They were fragile after all, maybe that’s why she liked them so much. 

Humans were weak and frustrating, they overcompensated for their shortcomings, but it was never enough. They had once worshiped gods, but then chose to become like them. In their greed for power and dominion, they found darker things. Things best left untouched by all mankind. But instead of burying the darkness and poison of the world, leaving it to fester and rot. They dug it up and used it to rule over their fellow human. Khawla had loved watching every moment of their greed and corruption. 

There was nothing more tantalizing than a human with a corrupt soul, so full of rage and hate towards the wrong person. All that anger had to go somewhere and in most cases, it would worm its way deep into a person’s soul and bring them to make a bargain with Khawla or something similar to her existence. 

Most people got it wrong when they made a bargain in the middle of the night, when all hope seemed to run from the darkness. They would cry and plea for their hopes and dreams to come true, they would bargain and beg for just one more chance. And then, when their voices’ cracked and their minds felt muddle, they would offer their souls. 

But the soul was not even the most interesting thing about a person, sure, while the soul was the most delicious, it was pale in comparison with a person’s ability to spread an idea. Idea were dangerous. They were worse than plagues and bullets, ideas would poison the mind and rearrange fate. 

Khawla loved ideas more than poison. But not even that thought was an original thought for her kind. It was bigger than all the years of Khawla’s existence combined with those who were similar to her.

If Khawla had been paying attention to the whimsical inspiration she often received from her adventures. She would have noticed that her ideas were as old as time. And that was never a good thing. 

But Khawla had not noticed, she had giggled to herself when the phone call ended and went back to working on her masterpiece. It was a simple poison that had taken a decade to create. Not all poisons were the same, some were naturally occurring, while others were made. Khalwa had created something that was a mixture of both. In her lab, she had taken the entire human DNA and formulated a poison that would target the immune system of all humans. The poison was unique to target the lungs and heart. She did not want the brain to be damaged, because this was where the vessel for the soul was kept. 

Instead, the poison would take the form of an atom and attach itself to an oxygen molecule. Oxygen was a fundamental part of human survival, but since animals also required oxygen, Khawla had to make sure it was a poison that only targeted humans. Her goal was to spread her masterpiece to the four corners of the world and then activate it. 

She wanted the impact to be small at first, just enough to make a few countries in Europe and Asia call upon the Heydari and their companies to provide aide. It would probably take three weeks for the world to be lulled into a sense of resilience. But then, Khawla planned to increase the impact of the outbreak to a global stage. 

Soon the need and call for aide would be too much, the people would reveal the horrors in their heart. And in the midst of the chaos and raids, Khawla would snap her fingers, and they would all fall down, like paper dolls tossed in the wind. 

It was a brilliant idea, actually it was a brilliantly superb idea, but it was not Khawla’s. 

Though, the best part of this idea was how it would not let the bodies simply rot in the streets or their homes. No, it would become the perfect fertilizer for the world to grow back into the cities and suburbs. The small roots and vines would find their way through the tiles and floorboards. They would climb up buildings and into museums. 

Soon the entire world would look like a forest and no human to interfere in the ways of the ecosystem. 

This was not Khawla’s idea, but as she thought and thought and try to wrap her mind around it. A gentle calm rippled across her mind and feeling of serenity washed over her. Everything was perfectly fine, and she had another therapy session next week. Everything was perfect. 

The end for now…

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