Even if it Kills You

by Richtor Darkbane

The quiet sounds of the small apartment were disturbed by the quickly elevating voices.

“But I haven’t done anything? Why?” Rob begged. 

“Because I just can’t be with you anymore. It‘s not you it‘s me,” John replied. 

“No! Give me a real reason,” Rob shot back.

“Because… I... Just accept it; I‘m moving out at the end of the week,” John said. 

“I deserve a reason!” Rob scowled.

“I cheated on you, all right?” John blurted out.

Silence overtook the conversation for only a moment.

“When? How many times?” Rob hung his head.

John came clean. “Four months ago...once.” 

“Is that why you won’t have sex with me anymore?” Rob began to choke up.

“I just don’t find you attractive anymore!” John snapped back, walking out the door.

Wednesday night things had settled down. Rob made John a romantic dinner.  He’d already eaten while he was out.  John sat in front of the TV and ate his dinner.

Rob went to bed around nine-thirty. He’d only been asleep for about an hour before John came in and woke him up. He was vomiting and had diarrhea; he couldn’t find the pink stuff in the cabinet. Rob pleaded to take care of him, and he finally gave in, Rob gave him the medicine and stayed up with him all night. It went on this way for the next three nights. Rob would give him meds, feed him soup, and he just kept getting worse.  On the third night while lying in bed with him stroking his hair John looked up at Rob.

“I’m sorry, I love you. I don‘t want to leave,” he pleaded.

“I forgive you. I want you to stay.” Rob leaned in and kissed him, knowing he would do anything to keep him.

The next two weeks were great. John got to feeling better, but he started staying out late again as he had been in the past, and almost without warning he confessed his plans on moving out again.  Rob was crushed, how would he keep him in his world? That night as they ate dinner, Rob begged him not to go, but there was no convincing him. John continued to pack his belongings as Rob slipped off to bed crying himself to sleep. 

Only one hour later Rob was awakened by strange sounds coming from down the hall. Getting up to check it out, he found John lying on the bathroom floor in a pool of his own vomit. Rob dragged him back to the couch.

“You might be leaving me but I won’t stop caring for you. Lie here and I’ll go make you some soup,” Rob reassured him.

Once he got to the kitchen he pulled the canned soup out of the cabinet and poured it in the bowl, and just as before retrieved the rat poison from under the sink, only pouring in a tiny amount this time. After all the dose from dinner made him violently ill already.  But that was ok; Rob would take care of him, and keep taking care of him. He belonged to Rob and always would, even if it killed him.

Back to Current Issue