Disclaimer: I don't own House obviously. Perhaps one day maybe.
A/N: So this little one shot is a bit different from the humor stories I write. It takes place during the notorious Tritter Arc. This is probably the first angst-ish story I've ever written, so please tell me how I did. (my clever way of saying, review please!)
They're idiots. They're morons. They're wrong.
It's all Tritter's doing really. He comes in with a bag of tricks and scares everyone into thinking I have a problem. That I am the problem, the bane of their existence. And by fixing my problem, theirs will be fixed too. Did any of them stop to think for one second that I was just fine? No, that would be asking too much of them.
I'm in pain. Perhaps they forgot that detail or ignored it entirely. As if this cane isn't a painful reminder of my reality, could I at least be rid of my physical pain? As if I haven't sacrificed enough already, could I have my daily euphoria and for five minutes pretend I'm not crippled. Pretend I'm not who I really am.
Every day I'm asked to save lives. To be the man in red and blue with the stupid cape. Now they're taking away my super strength and still expecting me to do my job. Don't they realize I can't do it! The pain has become an oppressive monster, bent on taking me down, starting with my dignity. The handicapped sign, the stairs, and this damn cane mock me relentlessly. To think for three months I shut them all up. I mocked them.
And now it's worse then before. Because for three months I really could do anything. They were scared then, and they're scared now. They don't realize I can't function; I can't live pain free without it. But they don't understand. They're more concerned with themselves and their new found sense of morality.
They're idiots. They're morons. Maybe, they're right.