I love you, it's ruining my life

Obsequil

"I don't want to," Taylor says, tears welling up in her eyes as she pleads with you.

"It seems the Obsequil*¹ didn't kick in," a voice says from the door.

You and Taylor turn to look, and at the doorway stands Professor North, a hard, driven, cold doctor at the department.

If there ever was a case of medical detachment, he'd be the best example. He sees the poets within The Tortured Poets Department as mere lab rats — subjects to study, which has proven useful in his career. He's one of the highest doctors in the institution.

Taylor has had her fair share of interactions with the man. Fair enough to know exactly how sociopathic he is.

Her eyes widen with pure terror at his words, and immediately, she says, "I-I assure you, it kicked in."

A sadistic smirk appears on the man's face, and he reaches into his pocket for two single-dose packets of Obsequil.

Taylor's lower lip wobbles as she struggles to hold back the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Please," she whimpers, pulling her knees to her chest. "I don't want to."

You bite your lip, torn between not allowing one of the higher-ups to find out just how fond you are of Taylor and comforting the woman you've grown to care for so much. 

Eventually, however, you have no time to do a thing, because Professor North, before you can even react, has forced the packs of Obsequil in your hand.

"Extra compliance from 0013," he says with a knowing grin on his features. "I'd like to see her take them."

You look at Taylor sadly.

She locks eyes with you. They're teary, terrified, begging for understanding.

She hates Obsequil. She's told you once that it makes her feel like she isn't herself. Like she's just the shell of herself, like her soul has been ripped out of her body and held just out of her reach.

And two extra doses of Obsequil? You just know she'd much rather die.

"I'm sorry, honey," you mouth to her as you open the packets, feeling the vicious stare of Professor North upon you two.

She nods understandingly, and as you finish unwrapping the pills, she takes them. She reaches for the bottle of water on her desk, but Professor North cuts in.

"Swallow them dry." Then he looks at you and says, as if he's giving you a tip, "Strengthens the effects, you see."

At this point, you're raging. You want to punch him square in the face and snap his cold, clinical demeanour in two. But you know you can't. Not here. Not now. You force yourself to remain composed, to keep the mask of professionalism firmly in place. 

Taylor, with a trembling hand, takes the pills from you. Her eyes never leave yours, searching for any sign of comfort or reassurance. You wish you could give her more than just a silent plea for forgiveness.

"Do it, 0013," Professor North orders, his voice dripping with authority and cruelty.

With a shaky breath, Taylor tilts her head back and places the pills on her tongue. You watch, helpless, as she struggles to swallow them without water. Her throat works painfully, her eyes squeezing shut against the discomfort. 

After what seems like an eternity, she manages to swallow the pills. She opens her eyes, and the look she gives you is one of betrayal and heartbreak. Your heart aches for her, but there's nothing you can do to change the situation.

"Good girl," North says mockingly, stepping closer to her. "Now, let's see if that compliance kicks in properly this time."

Taylor's shoulders slump, the fight draining out of her as the Obsequil begins to take effect. You see the light in her eyes dim, the spark of her unique brilliance fading as the drug takes hold. 

Professor North smirks, satisfied with the result. "See, Doctor? This is how you handle a poet. Remember, they're just tools for our research, nothing more."

You want to argue, to shout at him that Taylor is more than just a tool, that she's a human being with thoughts and feelings. But you know it would be pointless. North is too entrenched in his clinical detachment to ever understand.

He turns to leave, pausing at the door to give you one last condescending look. "Don't get too attached, Doctor. It clouds your judgment. And we can't have that, can we?"

With that, he exits, leaving you alone with Taylor. You rush to her side, sitting beside her as she curls into herself, her body wracked with silent sobs. 

"I'm so sorry, baby," you whisper, reaching out to gently touch her arm. "I wish I could do more to help you."

She shifts and allows you to wrap your arms around her. "I know," she chokes out. "I know you're trying."

*¹A pill designed to promote compliance and obedience to facility rules and directives, possibly through subtle psychological manipulation.

hope you liked this chapter! here's a lil life update, just 'cause (reading this is optional, of course, you don't have to hear about my life because why would you care lol)

so I cut my hair (wolfcut 🔥)
we're back at home, in Lucban
I leave for school (gonna stay in a dorm) on July 22nd
Red Wine Supernova and Casual by Chapell Roan have been ON. LOOP.
anddd no, that's all haha

anw be kind to yourselves I love you

Hugs and kisses,

Zee