"Trying To Be A Tough Guy"
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from "House". They belong to FOX. Also know that I don't own any rights to any of the drugs mentioned, and I have never been on them. And also, I wrote this story, any similarities are purely coincidental. K Thanks!
A/N: OneShot. Though I might bat this idea around again later. I've never written about just Wilson before. Thought it was time. . Wilson is 15 years old in this one. I'm not making fun of and/or approving of drug use. I just did some research online. I figured Wilson having a drug addiction instead of House would be interesting…This is a weird topic. Pretty severe swearing. Breaks will be HouseHouseHouse
HouseHouseHouse
James Wilson was sitting on the edge of the exam table, staring at his hands. What if he had to do this when he was a doctor? No, he wanted to be an oncologist. He wouldn't be dealing with 15 year olds evading telling him that they were addicted to pain killers.
"James? You need to tell me. I will find out anyways, but I think you trusting me is going to be key in what is going to happen. You gonna tell me? Or should I just open the paper?" Dr. Cardman shifted his weight.
James shook his head no.
"Fine. So, let's see…" Cardman flipped open the paper. "Vicodin, Oxycodone, Demerol, Codeine…"He looked at Wilson with some pity. "Boy. You tried everything to take away the pain."
"You're not a fucking shrink, so don't try and be one!"
"James, I'm just trying to understand what you're going through! I know your parents getting a divorce is having an effect on you and…"
"Just leave me the FUCK ALONE!" James screamed, getting off the exam table.
"Fine! Just…oh never mind. I'll do it myself." Dr. Cardman sighed. This profession sucked. He hated kids.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wilson? Could you come in here, please?"
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James heard his mother sobbing and his father telling her to kindly shut up so he could hear what Cardman was saying. God. They never quit, even now. Sitting in the waiting room, James looked around. Nothing but a secretary reading a magazine and a few mothers completely engrossed in what their two year olds were building with blocks in the corner. Good, all clear. He took three pills out of his pocket and threw them in his mouth, chasing him down with a slug of water. He sighed. His body relaxed.
He supposed all of this had started when his mother and father began to fight terribly about a year and a half ago. His mom would yell at him about everything and anything; bills, the way they were raising their three sons, James, the youngest, Ben, the middle child, and Alex, the oldest; once, she even screamed at him for leaving a plate on the side of the sink instead of IN the sink. Sometimes he started the fights, saying she drank too much and was sloppy all the time. They would both swear at each other. Once James heard a slap as his father brought his hand to his mothers face.
He'd held the pillow over his ears that time.
17 year old Ben could care less. Just grunted in his sleep and rolled over. 18 year old Alex was just happy he was getting ready to leave for college next semester. He also could have cared less about some stupid fight going on in the bedroom next door.
One morning, James woke up with a terrible headache. He wandered into the bathroom, the pain splitting his head open, and checked in the cabinet for Advil. None. He spied a bottle of pain killers, Vicodin, though, from when Dad had thrown his back out two months ago. So, he took some.
And he liked the way he felt like he was on top of the world. Nothing bothered him that day. So he took the rest of them, four of them, when he got home from school. It was a stupid thing to do, he knew. But once he started, he couldn't stop.
His father was a doctor. So James went into his brief case, copied his fathers handwriting, and wrote himself a scrip for Vicodin. He figured out how to use the insurance card, somehow, and picked up the prescription on the way home from school the next day.
He did some research online as he popped the pills like they were candy. Then, as he swallowed a Vicodin, he heard his father screaming at Ben, who had always been the problem child.
"What the FUCK happened to the Vicodin in here, Ben? Huh? There were exactly 7 pills in here yesterday and now they're GONE. WHAT HAPPENED?"
"Why the HELL can't you ever blame James or Alex for any of this shit, huh? I didn't do anything!"
Suddenly, James realized what he'd done wrong and decided the pain in his head was gone for that day. Good thing it was 9 pm. He slept like a baby that night.
The next day, he went to school and asked around for the guy named Jake. Jake had told him before that he could get him anything he wanted, all he had to do was ask. "Demerol? Oxycodone? Got any?" James whispered at lunch. It was a little 'after school special' for him. You know, where the kid starts out getting hooked on pain killers and moves on to heroin, where he dies a week later. But he didn't care. He'd started his spiral downhill.
"Yeah. Got some cough syrup with codeine too. You want? I can hook you up with a three month supply for all three for only 300$." Jake hissed under his breath.
James weighed it in his head. He'd be hurting a lot of people if he got caught. But who gave a shit? People were hurting him all the time. So he nodded his head.
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Which was how he got here. Sitting in a pediatrician's office, popping an Oxy pill.
"JAMES ROBERT WILSON!" Dan Wilson roared. "Get in the fucking car, now!"
So he got in the car.
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That night, James layed in bed, feeling Ben's eyes boring into his back. The whole family knew, somehow. He listened to his parents arguing.
His mother wasn't crying about her son's drug addiction this time. This time, she was pissed. At Dan.
"My fault?! How dare you try and pin this on me, Daniel! If you weren't out screwing your secretary, we wouldn't have HAD to get a divorce! And James wouldn't have HAD to develop a severe drug addiction to get attention!"
"Good lord, Amy! If you weren't so fucking miserable to be around, I wouldn't have HAD to screw my secretary! And this Is James' fault, not ours!"
"He's a 15 year old boy, Dan! How can you blame him for our lack of parenting?!"
"I…don't know, but I can!"
Ha. James smirked. Good old Dad. Always thinking. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain. The emotional and physical. His parents had raided his room and taken every pill in there. Which meant he was out. Clean. Sucked dry.
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The next morning before breakfast, his mother and father called him into the den.
"James. We would like to speak with you." Daniel said.
James shuffled in. Every muscle in his body had a sort of ache to it, and he didn't have any pep in his step that morning.
"Baby, we're sorry we haven't been paying as much attention to you as we should be." Amy began.
And Daniel finished with a, "You're going to Crestin Pines Rehab Facility in Washington, DC. It's far away, but that's because it works. You're going to get clean. You're going to stay clean. You're going to get past this, move on with your life, and make something of yourself. And you're going to try to prove to me that you can be the son I want you to be."
Amy shot him a dirty look.
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Two days later, with many screams from graduating senior Alex, and soon to be senior Ben, the whole family had packed up and was flying to DC for their new home.
Amy had insisted they all join James in DC. "He needs us now more than ever! How can you all only think of yourselves now?"
"James only thought of HIMSELF when he started popping prescription pills!" Alex shouted, glaring at James.
"END OF DISCUSSION." Amy yelled.
James checked into to Crestin Pines later the next day.
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Which was how he'd ended up in severe pain, puking into a toilet while his whole family watched.
"Maybe you should go." James said.
"What've they got you on, son?" Daniel asked sadly.
"I don't know. But it's not working."
"It will eventually. Just remember that."
And James tried to as day after day, for three months, he puked and lay in bed with severe pain in his whole, skinny little body.
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a/n: so, what do you think? R&R! Remember, drug use is bad!