He Tasted His Own Medicine の小説・ストーリー

The tonic tasted like bitter cheese and eggs. “It isn’t supposed to taste good,” Leslie chided. “Finish all of it.” “Do I have to?” I pouted. “All of it. Now,” Leslie ordered. I scrunched up my face and choked it down as fast as I could. Leslie passed me a glass of water, and I chugged it. “Why does medicine always taste so bad?” I groaned. Leslie smirked. “If it tasted good, you’d want seconds. Can’t have that.”

“You'll give me your answer once you've finished your medicine. I'm not a patient man, so think fast.” My eyes went wide. Was this the “time” he'd promised me? Unbelievable. This man was bonkers. Didn't matter, though—I wasn't caving to whatever ridiculous game this was. And he was the one tempting me, not the other way around. I opened my mouth to argue, and he used the opening to shove the spoon straight in, forcing the medicine down my throat before I could stop him. My face did several things simultaneously. The medicine smelled like something sweet, which made it a spectacular liar.

He left the room, locked the door, and left me alone. I looked at the tray for a couple of minutes until I realized that I was already hungry so I decided to eat the food with no taste and drink the water but I didn’t take the medicine. I picked it up just to step on it and I don’t care if they will see me in camera stepping on my medicine. I know I don’t need it because I am not sick or crazy. I sit down again and think about how I can get out of here.

It was an act of war. His mouth was demanding, desperate, tasting of pain and the bitter, metallic tang of the medicine he’d been given. I should have shoved him away. I should have walked out of that room and never looked back. Instead, I let out a jagged, broken breath and surrendered to the pull of him.

He chuckled softly," it still tastes like trash though." 23 A sharp gasp ripped from my throat as my back hit the front of his bed. 9 "To be completely honest with you I'm sick and tired of drinking that shit. But still, I had to follow the doctor's orders." He paused once he was right in front of me, greedily staring down at me, "And correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't he say I could get what I wanted from one of my friend's pets?" 178 He looked at me like he was waiting for an answer.

The strip club. Not here for lust. Not a dance. It is a trance. Forget it all. Inside smelled like liquor…not the cheap kind though. Men danced under the strobe lights with bodies moving to tease. I ignored them and made a beeline for the bar. "Whiskey," I muttered to the bartender. "Double." The first glass burned, the second dulled, and the third blurred the contours of my pain. I drank until my thoughts slowed and Adrian's voice was no longer echoing in my consciousness.

I said coyly, “Grandpa, I took care of it myself, didn’t I? You taught me to strike where it hurts. I didn’t embarrass the family.” My grandfather laughed. The sharpness in his features softened instantly. He reached out and affectionately tapped me on the forehead. “You really take after your mother. You’re both usually so mild and soft-hearted. But when it truly matters, you aim the knife better than anyone.” When the conversation turned to Tom, I looked at my mother sympathetically. “Mom, what did you ever see in him?”

I questioned once more tilting my head to observe him. "It tastes like any normal wine you psycho." He spat at me, cursing repeatedly. "But it's not any normal wine." I pointed towards the bulge in his trousers making his face flush red. "How are you not affected?!" He whisper yelled, clearly exasperated by the new development. Well, my parents would lock me up in the basement and experiment different poisons on me as a kid, aphrodisiac included, in the end, I became immune to must of those stuff.

Soon within minutes, she arranged everything along with that bowl of bitterness. I took the bowl first just to show her that I drank it just as I did in the afternoon. It was the most horrible taste that I ever had, if anyone gave me an option that one to drink this medicine and the other my death, I think I will choose my death over this medicine. I threw it away from the window behind me hiding from Manger. "See, I drank it, if your lord asks you, you can tell him," I said keeping the bowl on the dinner table. She nodded and stepped outside,

"Quench your thirst." The sharp bite of Jack Daniels washed over my taste buds, the liquid burning a path down my throat. It felt like a bitter cleanse, erasing some of the lingering melancholy. My self-loathing grew as I realized how easily I had given in to his demand. He seemed to dismantle my will with effortless ease. Jonah, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on me through the rearview mirror as the music blared on.