Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I do not own House. Spoilers for Detox, Merry Little Christmas and spoilers in general.
What have I done? You are a pathetic loser House.
House glanced toward his bedroom door slightly ajar. He was finding it harder to breathe and his leg pain was slowly returning. It had only been three hours since the morphine. Apparently long enough.
House winced as a sharp pain dug deeply into his dead muscle. Nearly 7 years of this shit.
Maybe, no he shouldn't go there. .But then again... Maybe you should have chopped it off.
His hand turned the knob slowly as to not wake his guest. What would she do if she saw you getting high again?
There were several alternatives to that action. House only liked one. Hold me. I am needy.
At the word needy, he thought of Wilson. I am not a Judas
House limped on carefully, cautiously but eager to get to the box that contained relief. I will never betray myself for any deal.
His breathing quickened as he thought of Wilson's actions. Bastard probably thought he was doing the right thing. Chase would've turned on you to go to jail. Maybe I deserve jail.
He inched higher on the top shelf. He stretched as far as his arm would allow afraid that the box would come crashing down. Pain is clouding your judgment. Focus.
House tore open the morphine box to find it containing nothing but gauze pads and empty needles. What has she done?
House stayed low to the floor dragging his spastic body along for the ride. He edged up to Cuddy' side of the sofa. She took them. I know she did. I should have one more….maybe…maybe I'm wrong….so foggy.
He began to reach in and around the couch to see if she was sleeping on them which would be stupid, but so Cuddy. Protecting me again.
He felt nothing. His eyes scanned in the dark looking for anything that would stand out. Darkness.
The pain was becoming unbearable. He had been through this once before. Detoxing to get out of clinic duty. Detoxing because she asked you to.
The feelings were the same. Maybe the solution was the same too. A new form of pain relief.
He continued to drag his body into the kitchen. The drawers looked so far away. He reached up to pull it opened. Oh God, please.
He felt around stabbing himself repeatedly with the utensils until he came across what he needed. He turned to face Cuddy on the couch. You must not see this.
House cried out. Softly, so that she wouldn't know.
He looked down at his handy work. He slit his arm causing a deep wound to form. The blood loss was making him dizzy. The cut was deep but not life threatening. He started to feel better. Yeah, this is better.
He made his way back to the bedroom and onto the bed. Rest.
House fell fast asleep before he could even clean up the wound. The last thing he had done was bury it under the sheets.
Out of sight out of mind.
Hope you all like. I have been thinking so much about what the possibilities could be from seeing the screencaps for the Merry Little Christmas episode and reading spoilers that this is what I got so far on this story. More to come. Hope you all like. I haven't forgotten about Resolutions. I am actually thinking of writing two stories with similar themes but written differently to see which one people like better. You guys decide!
Please review! I will update faster.
