A Dark Romance

Francis Davis gave me the medicine. He said it would save me.

I swallowed it and sank into ten years of oblivion. Ten years of loving him.

Until one day, he decided he wanted to know whether the sober me still loved him.

So he took the medicine away.

I never expected hatred and pain to run deeper than addiction.

So I jumped from the 18th floor, returning my life to him, and my freedom to myself.

The moment the pill melted on my tongue, I knew something was off.

Instead of the usual bitter taste, there was a sharp, metallic flavor, like chewing on a mouthful of coins and dirt. I gulped it down and glanced at Francis Davis, the Don of the Davis mafia family. He was standing by the window, his back to me, looking all stiff and serious.

"This pill's not right," I said.

He spun around, and streaks of sunlight from the blinds sliced across his face, making him look like he was part of a black-and-white movie. "What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"It tastes weird," I said, sitting up despite the searing pain in my shoulder from a bullet wound. "And it's not doing its job."

I had noticed the change in the pill's flavor three months back, but kept it to myself until then.

Francis came over and sat on the edge of my bed. He reached out, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch my cheek, but he just picked up a shiny little bottle from the nightstand and started fiddling with it.

Then, in a solemn tone, he said, "Natalie, what would happen if the pill stopped working?"

"I'd be a goner," I said flatly. The Davis family called it the 'loyalty pill,' and a person had to take an antidote every month. If they did not, by the third day, it would feel as if ants were crawling through their bones; the pain would be so unbearable that it would drive anyone insane. A week later, death would follow.

The scariest part was that it tampered with the mind, forcing an obsession with the person who provided it.

I had been on that stuff for a decade.

Adrian Davis, Francis' dad, was the one who got me started on it. I would have done anything for Adrian. When he died, Francis took over, and for the last eight years, I have been head over heels for him.

All because of that pill.

"If you wouldn't actually die, just feel a bit under the weather?" Francis asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're tough as nails, Natalie."

I stared at him, the pieces clicking into place. "You switched up my meds."

He did not even try to hide it. "About three months back. I came up with a new mix. You won't kick the bucket, and you won't get hooked on me because of the stuff, but yeah, you'll still hurt."

Everything went dead silent