Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with General Hospital.
A/N: I'm not quite sure where the writers are going with Lucky. I'm a little disappointed but I felt the need to write my own ending to the scene in the elevator.
Hydrocodone
His eyes scanned the label of the bottle. He ran his fingers along the gentle curves of the letters. His eyes shifted to the contents. The little white pills that had torn his world apart, but at the same time had taken away his pain. His pain, from feeling unwanted, unloved, misunderstood but mostly abandoned. Everyone thought Lulu suffered the most when Laura went catatonic but they all suffered, in their own miserable way.
These pills had given him an escape from his own reality, his own miserable life. It would be so easy to go back, so safe. He wouldn't hurt anyone anymore. He wouldn't disappoint anyone. Elizabeth had said it herself; he was a danger to her children. They were better off being raised by one parent, then by a drug addict, for that's all he was.
He shook the bottle gently and smiled at the sound of his refuge rattling inside. He could do it again. He could feel safe one more time. He placed his hand on the lid and considered turning it. He needed these pills, they would fix everything, Maxie's lies, his mother's relapse, Elizabeth's disappointment, his father's abandonment, Lulu's abortion. It would all go away.
His mind flashed to images of his mother when he'd told her that he was in rehab. He remembered her words of encouragement. She believed that he could get through this. What did she know? She hadn't seen him in four years. That's a long time for a person to change.
He wanted to escape so much, to be free of these burdening emotions labeled as grief. It was so simple, all he had to do was open the lid and pour some in his hand. Then he could just swallow them and everything would be okay. He knew better, nothing would be okay. Maxie would still have lied, Elizabeth would still be disappointed, Lulu would still have had the abortion but most painfully Laura would still be gone. These pills would fix nothing, just numb him until the pain ate away at him from inside and made him into what his mother is; a shell, trapped in her own mind and unable to be part of the world. He would not become her. He tossed the pills against the wall of the elevator and sunk to the floor as his body wracked with heavy sobs. No he had to fix his life on his own without the help of Hydrocodone.