You were so torn up after she died. You didn't eat. You didn't sleep. You rarely did anything but work. It was all you could do to drown out your heart with your mind. I was hesitant at first to support your idea, but I couldn't help it. I saw how much pain you were in. Of course, now I can tell you all of this because you have no memory of her, and it would be as if simply hearing Romeo and Juliet. It doesn't mean anything to you anymore, because the emotion memory is gone.
But, nonetheless, I will tell you. You two were madly in love, and her death was sudden. The day it happened I think we both were thinking the same thing, but it was too dangerous.
You just set there dumb-founded. "I can't live. I can't breathe. This is. insane."
I didn't know **what** to say to you.
" I must forget this. I MUST. Her funeral is on Friday. I don't know if I can wait 'til then", you said.
I had never seen an educated man get so tore up over **anything**.
We sat in the church together, a chemist, a psychiatrist, and a clergyman, all at a loss for words. You turned to me. "Give me something to make me forget!" you said, but I didn't want to.
"How could God do this?" you asked.
John was quick to reply- "Sometimes God brings His children through fire to purify them. 'Everything works out for good-"
"Fuck God!" you yelled. "Fuck everything!"
And no one brought up the drugs. John and I had an unspoken agreement that it was best not for you to have access to them in your state of mind.
So, John and I brought you to a hotel, and then went home ourselves. No one said it, but we were all thinking about the experiments, and a certain unspeakable application.
I usually trust you, but that night I couldn't be sure. I tried to sleep, but I could not, so I went back up to the lab, fearful that my greatest apprehension (and my greatest curiosity) might be fulfilled.
Sure enough, you were not there. But you in no manner tried to hide the fact that you had stolen the pills.