Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

25. Oh, Happy Days

Chapter 25

Oh, Happy Days

T he morning light pours out the opened curtains and makes me groan. I wiggle deeper in bed and grab the eighth tome of Kiken’s Fantasy.

“Whatcha doin’ this morning, Seito?” I ask my beloved manga book character.

I linger in bed, fingers tracing the well-worn pages of Kiken’s Fantasy, savoring the familiar world. A comforting silence fills the room, broken only by the distant squawking of seagulls.

But as the day passes, I’m reminded that this isn’t my dream vacation. Sun, beach, reading, ice cream, and coffee all lose their appeal without Kai by my side.

Another day goes by in a blur. Sunscreen, lounging, frozen margaritas, reading.

I miss Kai more with each passing moment and believe he may be gone forever. Dead, in jail, or back home while I wait like a stupid girl.

The sweltering sun beats down, relentless as my thoughts. I lift the brim of my wide hat and squint at the dazzling horizon, wondering if Kai is out there somewhere, caught up in dangerous situations. My heart throbs with unanswered questions.

In the evening, I trade margaritas for a mojito that does little to cool my nerves.

No signs of Rory or whatever his real name may be.

Did I imagine all of this?

A sick figment of my imagination or a hallucination brought by… Brought by what? I haven’t taken my anxiety meds since the night I sewed Kai up like a ripped rag doll.

A third day speeds by.

On the fourth day, the ocean lull beckons me, murmuring a melody of solitude. If Kai doesn’t come back in five days, I’ll rent a boat and travel the world. My fingers twitch, craving the touch of anything real. I abandon the comfort of my beach chair, stepping into the heated sand that slips between her toes like tiny secrets.

I may have dreamed it all. Lying in my hospital bed in the psych unit, the content of my stomach being pumped out to make me live another day.

The sharp ring of my phone slices through the air, shattering the dreadful web of my thoughts. I fumble to retrieve it from the depths of my beach bag. The name flashing on the screen causes my heart to stutter: Nina.

“Hey, Nina.”

“Hey… Is something wrong, chickadee?”

“No,” I lie. But I’m sick of lying. And not being myself. “I mean… Kai is…”

“On a business assignment?” she finishes for me.

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice hollow.

Nina’s sigh is a balm and a burden. “You sound miserable. Come back to reality, chickadee. Get your mind off him for a bit.”

I glance at the horizon, the water shimmering with promises it can’t keep. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder. Go out tonight. Have fun with new people.”

Ew. A bitter laugh escapes. “Easier said than done.”

“Ah, Marianne, you’ll be fine,” Nina insists. “Grab a glass of wine and some crab legs. Oh, and a pharmacist called.”

“What? Who?”

“A pharmacy near Regina. They said you had to call them back right away.”

I frown, confused and slightly annoyed. Why would a pharmacist in Regina want to talk to me? “Did he say what it was about?”

“No,” Nina responds casually. “Just said it was urgent.” She gives me the number to call, and I type it down in my phone under Regina’s pusher.

“Thanks, Nina,” I mutter.

The call ends, and I’m left staring at the waves licking the shore.

The last time I was in Regina and encountered a pharmacist…

“We don’t have any of those pills in stock right now. I’m sorry. It’s not a usual medication.”

My imagination runs wild, conjuring scenarios where medications become life-or-death secrets. But maybe he received some.

Eric’s voice resonates against the walls of my skull. “Just take a pill, princess; it’ll be better.”

And then, Kai’s. “You’re high?”

Questions I never dare ask pop into my mind, like that odd feeling of being chained to Eric or the suicide attempt and the chilling nightmares. My fingers dance across the screen, dialing the pharmacy’s number. After going through the options, I finally reached a real person.

A woman.

“Goodman’s Pharmacy, I’m Liz; how can I help you?”

“Hi, Liz, I was contacted by the pharmacist about an anxiety medication?”

“Name, please.”

“Ma… Could I talk with the pharmacist, please?”

There’s a brief pause and a rustling as Liz passes the phone over. Another voice, deeper this time, takes over. “Yes, this is Dr. Harris.”

“Hello, my name is Marianne Milosh, and I was told to call…”

Another pause, this time loaded with consideration. “Ah, yes, Miss Milosh. We met last week at the pharmacy. I’ve been looking into your anxiolytic prescription, and there seems to be some issue.”

Dread curls in the pit of my stomach. “What issue?”

“You see, there was an anomaly in your file that flagged our system, and I wanted to ensure everything is being handled correctly.”

“I don’t understand.”

But he continues.

“Your medication records, specifically the dosages and refill dates, don’t align with standard practices or our logs.”

A heavy pause makes me wary.

“Would you please get to the freaking point,” I snap, popping the tequila open.

He grunts. “Well, it appears there’s a discrepancy between what was prescribed and what’s on record here. Could you come by the pharmacy so we can resolve this in person?”

I blink.

“We need to verify that everything is as it should be for your safety.”

My fingers grip the phone tighter as if holding onto sanity with both hands. “I’m not in town right now. Can’t this be handled over the phone?”

Dr. Harris hesitates. “Due to the nature of your medication, it’s crucial for us to verify some information face-to-face.”

My mouth goes dry. The beach blurs around me; I grasp for reality. “What?”

“I suggest you visit immediately, Miss Milosh.” Dr. Harris’s voice carries concern. A shit-ton of worry.

I nod despite knowing he can’t see it. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

One shaky goodbye to the pharmacist later, I hang up with one thought in head: no… fucking… way.

A strange feeling washes over me, like when I’m on the brink of discovering the identity of a killer in a podcast. It’s dreadful yet exhilarating, causing my heart to thump against my sternum and goosebumps to appear on my skin.

It stinks of ugly truths.

I need to check out my pills. The idea has me erupting in a manic chuckle, shaking my head and counting the sea birds’ shadows on the ocean’s surface.

A large gulp of tequila gives me the courage to do something I should’ve done years ago. I grab the bottle of chemicals. And my body’s reaction is immediate. My blood is replaced by icy water; my heart pounds faster, spreading the cold liquid in my limbs.

Phone whipped out, I search online for answers. As I scroll through the usual medical jargon, I stumble upon something alarming—the pills that supposedly ease my anxiety are powerful anxiolytics with dangerous side effects when taken long-term. My heart sinks as I read about potential hallucinations, suicidal thoughts, sexual avoidance, and panic attacks... all symptoms that I’ve experienced while taking these pills.

Bile rises in my mouth, and the air doesn’t know how to fill my lungs anymore. These pills have been silently wreaking havoc within me all this time. My body cowers as air is kicked out of my lungs by shock.

The label warns that the pills, known as S.U.P.E.R., should only be taken temporarily to control severe panic attacks while waiting for regular medication. Yet I’ve been taking them for three years straight.

Further research reveals that the recommended doses listed on the website are much lower than those written on my bottle. That explains why every pharmacist winced when they handed me my prescription.

But I get sucked into the rabbit hole, and the next paragraph sends me spiraling into complete mental isolation. At high dosages, these pills are used to maintain control over-psychotic patients.

To make them... compliant .

“Just take a pill, princess. It’ll make everything better.”

My insides roil with a seething blend of fury and disbelief as I realize Eric and my therapist had been manipulating me all along.

A web of lies that leave me sick to my core. They made me a docile fucktoy.

The person I trusted most with my mental health had been working together with my violent ex for their own twisted agendas.

During my despair and anger, a fierce determination takes hold. I refuse to be a pawn in their sick game any longer. With trembling hands, I dial Dr. Rossi’s number on my phone, desperate for answers.

The phone rings once, twice, and then a click as it connects. “The number you’re trying to reach has been deleted.”

Of course!

The land spins around me as I fumble for the bed’s edge. My mind is a whirl of thoughts, too relentless to process. But one pops out.

Kai.

He went above and beyond to make sure I didn’t take the pills.

Did he know?

I swallow, my eyes darting to the bottle of pills clenched tightly in my hand. I’m on the verge of falling to my knees, but something gives me strength, and I burst out laughing hysterically.

“You needed pills to…” As black clouds gather in the sky, my laugh echoes with the shore breeze. “Pills! To have me.”

I want to scream, to rage at Eric and all the lies that have surrounded me for so long, but it’s not his fault.

It’s mine.

I’m the one who didn’t address my past wounds. Who hid behind my inner demons like they were stuffed toys. And right now, I’m the one responsible for my liberation.

A loud rumble echoes through the sky, causing a rush of excitement to course through my veins—it’s the thunder!

There’s only a peaceful quiet at the exact spot where terrifying questions should take over my psyche.

I should’ve known… I’m a nurse. How could I have been so blind?

Rain starts softly.

“No. I’m just human.” It’s okay, I tell myself. “I was starved of affection, which made it easier to manipulate me.”

I’m… I’m okay.

The man needed to drug me so I would fuck him… Wow!

As bolts of lightning illuminate the darkening sky and booming thunder shakes the ground, I’m filled with effervescent giggles at each powerful sound. The wind picks up, whipping my hair around.

Resolution drums under my skin when I pick up Alumina Bang Bang from my trunk.

No man will ever control me anymore.

I stand at the shore, watching the storm roll in. The wind, rain, lightning, and thunder remind me that this world still has power and grace, even among the chaos. I may have been misled, manipulated, and drugged by those who claimed to care for me, but their actions do not define me.

Kai, baby, I miss you.

“You’re stronger than you think.”

I am.

Before the crashing waves, relief fills each cell of mine. My dress clings to my legs as I grip the bat tightly. Something within me is building, a hurricane forming in my chest. A dark, liberating madness takes hold.

I raise the bat high above my head, letting out a primal scream that echoes over the thunder. It’s a cry from deep within my soul, releasing all the built-up tension and freeing me from its crushing weight.

With fierce determination, I hurl the bottle of pills into the air and swing the bat with all my might. The bottle flies away into the crashing waves, carried by the wind.

At this moment, an overwhelming triumph fills me, and I shout, “Home run!”

I spin around, exhilarated by my strength and power.

And now, it’s time to celebrate. I reach for the bottle of tequila that Arietta brought back from Mexico for me and take a long swig. The strong liquor burns its way down my throat, but I relish its effects. Standing waist-deep in the ocean, each wave unable to knock me down, I savor every drop of this drink fit for the goddesses.

As I breathe in deeply, my lungs feel like they are expanding with newfound freedom and vitality. With nightfall settling around me, energy rushes through my veins. Although the winds may be dying down and the thunder rumbling off into the distance, the potent alcohol still runs through me, leaving me buzzing with excitement. Every nerve-ending tingle with life as I take another sip, savoring the complex flavors with hints of vanilla and smoky caramel.

Aggressive thoughts come, and I violently whip them away with an extra sip. The tequila’s aroma is delightful, and the finish is long and lingering, leaving a pleasant warmth in my throat and a gentle sweetness on my tongue.

I should go to Mexico to buy myself a whole crate.

“Eric! You! Will! Suffer!” I yell. But I fall into the water, on my butt, the bottle in the air. “The bottle’s safe and sound, ladies and assholes!”

Then, a suspicious noise.

And another one.

I rise to my feet, my dress clinging to my legs. I hold the bottle of tequila like a pointing finger, inquisitively following the source of the noise. My hips twist toward it, followed by my chest and then my head, like a robot.

The moment my gaze falls upon him, I let out a startled hiccup, my mind struggling to process what I see. I stare incredulously at the tequila bottle in front of me, squinting in disbelief.

This can’t be happening.

It simply can’t be.

My heart pounds as I realize what’s going on. He must be trying to kill me, the jerk. The very thought sends a shiver down my spine, and my anger grows every second.

I glare at him with rage and indignation, daring him to try something. But he simply smirks, his hazel eyes shining with amusement.

The nerve of this guy!

“Hey, princess,” he greets me.

Icy water replaces my blood; my heart thuds faster, spreading the cold liquid in my limbs. Too much is happening at the same time. Words spoken by Eric, my therapist, even pharmacists smash into each other in the confines of my skull.

“Just take a pill, princess.”

“Oh, fuck off, Eric!” My words are mere whispers against the roar of the sea outside.

A man moves, his presence a shadow in my peripheral vision. I shift my focus from the sea to him, watching as he walks up to me, scanning me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

Regret flashes in his eyes before they harden again. “I might be an ass when I’m mad, but I’m not that kind of monster.”

Reality warps. My eyelids flutter as I try to put the pieces together.

A strange anger pushes on my side, growing bigger and more intense with each second of my silence.

“Let’s go inside, cutie pie.”

I exhale, the tension within me coiling tighter despite his words. “That was your plan all along, though, wasn’t it? Make me doubt myself, so I would be easier to manipulate. Willingly take the meds.”

He steps forward, his eyes narrowing. “My plan was to keep you safe.” His hands fall to his sides. “Marianne, what’s happening?” His expression is inscrutable, but there’s a frantic shimmer behind his eyes that makes bile travel up my esophagus.

“You found Dr. Rossi for me. All on your own…” I whisper as I sit on the sand next to the tequila bottle. “And then, you pushed and pushed and pushed the pills.”

He extends his hand to catch my wrist. A smell my soul recognizes overpowers my brain, but I can’t identify it. It’s just earthy.

“Don’t touch me!” I growl, scurrying back like wounded prey.

Eric smelled earthy.

My name falls from his lips, but I’m a breath away from connecting the dots of why I stayed. An old music record plays in my head. A lullaby.

Memories of Eric bleed into the present like a nightmare seeping into reality.

Because I loved him, I thought I was crazy.

Because I stayed, I thought I was weak.

And because I didn’t fight back, I thought I was worthless.

But the chemicals stripped me of the power to fight back long ago.

The betrayal cuts deeper than a scalpel, slashing through the foundation of my trust, leaving it to bleed out on the pristine wood floor of my beach house.

Why did I come inside?

“I didn’t find Dr. Rossi to manipulate you,” he says, kneeling beside me. “I hired him to help.”

He hesitates before reaching out.

“Stay back!” I hiss. “You made me completely crazy.” My vision blurs with unshed tears. “And now, I can’t…” I wheeze, eyes wide, and my arms wrap around my knees.

He sits down, staying an arm’s length away, hands open in surrender. “I’m sorry.” The creases around his hazel eyes soften, and momentarily, I see the man I loved. “Fuck, Marianne, I’m so, so sorry.”

That’s his number one trick. Apologizing.

I choke back a sob, unable to look at him. The dark memories entwine with his words, creating confusion and mistrust. “You made me trust you, then broke me apart.”

Outside, the wind howls with the waves like a spectral orchestra. The bitter cold seeps through the walls, wrapping us both in its icy grip.

“I took those pills to please you. Because you were happy with me when I took them.” Tears roll down my cheeks. “God, I would’ve done anything… anything for you to love me.“ I curl tighter into myself, seeking solace in my embrace. “You are poison,” I say through gritted teeth.

I burst out laughing, but it soon becomes a cry as I realize the truth.

“You’re right. Eric doesn’t deserve to live. I’ll take care of it, cutie pie.”

A chill runs through me at the nickname—Eric’s voice, but not Eric’s words.

“You think killing will fix this? Will fix me?”

The storm outside crescendos, rattling my patio furniture.

Green eyes with golden flecks snap back to mine, blazing with a fire I haven’t seen before. It even smells like a campfire. “Fucking Christ, you don’t need fixing; you need love.”

I want love.

My breath hitches. He could be lying. I can’t think straight with the past and present blurring like this, but something in those eyes keeps me from running.

“I have a phone call to make, but I’ll help you lie down first.”

His words hang between us, suffused with desperation and something darker, something that coils around my heart like a vise.

“Don’t touch me.” My voice trembles as I push myself off the floor.

He stands, arms still open to show he means no harm—or so he claims. “I can’t let you out of my sight, not now. It’s too dangerous.”

I lie down on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, voice softer now.

And I swear I want to stay awake, but my eyelids are too heavy, my muscles drained of energy, and the bed is so soft…